The Path of Gold
by moodyblues53
Summary: Moody reluctantly accepts a new case from an old friend; a case that will take him & Tonks half-way around the world.
1. Chapter 1

The Path of Gold

The Path of Gold

(From _"The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody"_)

Chapter One – _An Unfair Advantage_

The last days of September in 1992 had set the stage for a dramatic change of the seasons in London. The dying environment of summer had been pounced upon by an extremely predatory storm of autumn. All day, the wind had shrieked and the rain had battered against the walls, roofs, and windows of the cluster of buildings lining Charing Cross.

One of these buildings, huddling innocently between its neighbors to weather nature's fury, was a non-descript little structure that neither caught the eye nor made imprint on the mind. This was due to its internal nature more than its outward appearance, for this was the Leaky Cauldron, beloved and protected watering hole of the British wizarding culture.

Inside the Leaky Cauldron, Nymphadora Tonks was enjoying a choice table near the roaring fireplace and some hot toddy made with butterbeer; a specialty of Tom, the bald, wizened innkeeper. Tonks took another sip and stretched her arms to their fullest extent, luxuriating in the delicious warmth. Although there was a substantial clientele in the Cauldron today, Tonks didn't feel crowded in the least.

"One thing's for sure" she thought, mentally chuckling, "when you travel in wizarding circles with Mad-Eye Moody, you usually get a respectful amount of space."

Tonks glanced across the table at her teacher and partner. Moody appeared to be totally immersed in the large flagon in front of him. In true Moody fashion, he'd paid for a large stout, dumped the contents in the fireplace, poured a bit from his hip flask, and expanded it with his wand.

"Ah, I'm going to enjoy this four day pass immensely, Mad-Eye" Tonks waxed smugly. "No reports to write, no hooligans firing spells at my arse . . . and no dealing with Scrimgeour." She paused significantly in her monologue, eying her partner over the rim of her cup.

The verbal debriefing of their latest escapade with the Head of the Auror office had not gone well at all. Rufus had attempted to dress down Moody for failure to follow prescribed Ministry protocol, so Moody, who had as much patience with in-house rules as a bear has with a sore tooth, had elaborated on Scrimgeour's imminent danger of experiencing his own wand as a suppository. Only the timely (and anticipated) intervention of Amelia Bones, Head of Magical Law Enforcement, had kept the episode from escalating past the wall-rattling shouting-match stage.

Moody merely grunted in response and took another pull on his mug. "Any big plans this break, Dora?" he rumbled politely.

"None worth mentioning" Tonks grinned. "There may be a concert or two that merit attending. I need to check the Prophet." She sighed significantly. "I'll probably just wind up lounging about the house, while Mum yells at me to pick up my room."

Moody nodded knowingly, but, offered no comment. His attention was focused on the blast of wind that announced the opening of the front door, admitting a group of five new customers, all swathed from head to foot in hooded, gray cloaks.

Three of the newcomers continued straight to Tom tending the bar while two veered directly at the Aurors' table, shedding their cloaks and hoods as they walked.

One was about four feet tall, remarkably round with pointed ears and nose, talon-bearing hands, wisps of white hair with a pointed goatee of the same color and gold-rimmed half lenses.

The other was a tall, slender human with ginger-colored hair done up in a ponytail, a pleasant freckled face, and a dangling earring shaped like a dragon's tooth.

Tonks immediately recognized the latter and called out "Wotcher, Bill. How's Charlie?"

Bill Weasley stopped at the table and grinned back at Tonks. "Charlie's doing fine, Tonks" he relied pleasantly. "At least, at last reports, he still had all his limbs." Bill turned his eyes on Moody. "How are you, Mad-Eye?"

"I'm fair, Weasley; thank you for asking. Give my best to your folks when you see them."

"Is it all right to join you, Mad-Eye; Tonks?" Bill seemed a bit uneasy. "We'd like to pick your brains a bit."

Moody's responding grunt didn't seem especially threatening, so, Bill and his companion pulled up chairs and ordered drinks.

"First off, let me present Barnwald, known in banking circles as Barnwald the Golden" Bill addressed them, showing an exaggerated air of respect to the venerable goblin.

Moody seemed to focus a bit more on their guest. "It's not often the director of Gringotts mingles with the public" he growled at the old sprite. "What's the occasion?"

"A crisis of the first magnitude, Alastor Moody" the chief goblin answered with a thin, cracked voice. "We seek the services of a first-class investigator to find and uproot the cause of our destabilization and the undermining of our credibility."

"Could you specify, Weasley?" Moody snarled, his impatience evident.

"In the past few months, there's been a number of counterfeit galleons come to our attention" Bill kept his voice low. "We've traced them back to Diagon Alley, but, can get no further along. We need to stop them and soon."

"What types of information are you investigating?" Tonks asked, professional curiosity aroused. This was a new line of inquiry for her; she and Moody specialized in stuff a bit more rough-and-tumble.

"Wizards who are new to Diagon Alley; those who have stores that specialize in manipulating metals; possible sources of the raw gold and how its infiltrating the country; import companies; smuggling rings; all that line of country." Bill dropped a pile of mismatched parchments on the table. "We've got it all written down."

Barnwald added his own screech: "The villains are causing the erosion of confidence in Gringotts. We must be responsible to our patrons for the trust they invest in us."

Bill took over. "What Barnwald is saying is; if people lose confidence in Gringotts, they'll turn to other sources of capital."

"What sources" Tonks asked, puzzled. "Gringotts is _the _wizarding bank."

"Private sources, Tonks" Bill replied seriously. "Wealthy families with old money"

"Which greatly increases the influence of those private individuals" Moody added.

"Exactly, Mad-Eye" Bill agreed, "Which is what makes it imperative that this situation gets nipped in the bud. We don't want _some_ of those good citizens gaining that type of power."

"Well, Weasley" Moody growled, "It sounds to me like you're more in need of an auditor than an Auror."

"No, Alastor Moody" the old goblin put in. "We have discussed this at the highest levels and believe that you and the young woman must take this case."

"Not really my cup of tea, Barnwald" Moody snarled. "If you're dead set on an Auror, I can recommend a few. Have you tried John Dawlish, Scrimgeour's apprentice? He's tops academically; they've yet to write a test he couldn't ace; although in the field, he couldn't find his own backside with two wands and a set of printed directions."

"No, no" Barnwald wheezed, "our friends in high places say it must be you."

"I'm sorry, Weasley" Moody growled, "But, my answer is no."

"Well, I'm sorry too, Mad-Eye" Bill answered, sounding quite sincere. "I'd prefer that you took on the case willingly, but, you've left me no choice." With that, Bill raised his eyes to the bar and waved his arm.

Tonks looked in the direction of Bill's gesture and saw one of the figures who had entered with him and Barnwald detach itself from the group and head in their direction. She reached for her wand automatically (Moody's 'constant vigilance' mantra having made its mark on her), when she noticed Moody was sitting as still as a rock and staring at the approaching individual as if in shock.

"What does he see?" she wondered, then got an answer as the figure threw back the hood of the concealing cloak.

Tonks felt her jaw drop in wonder. The newcomer was a woman, but, not just _any_ woman. This one was tall and statuesque; an incredible vision of beauty despite the fact she was in her mid-fifties. Her dark brown hair was confined in a ponytail that hung past her waist with a characteristic white streak that started over her right eye and extended back over her head. She had enormous, dark eyes; a petite nose; and a strong mouth and jaw. Taken as a whole, her appearance went far beyond words like pretty or beautiful. Regal, majestic, or breath-taking summed her up more appropriately.

Tonks felt like a scruffy little ragamuffin in her presence, but, looks were only a small part of the awe she felt. Tonks was stunned because she knew who the woman was on sight, although only from photographs in the Daily Prophet and Chocolate Frog cards. This was the supreme witch of the age; the former Minister of Magic; Millicent Bagnold.

Thousands of young British witches (Tonks included) idolized Millicent Bagnold. She towered above the accomplishments of the average witch or wizard like some unreal colossus. Tonks knew most of her credentials by heart: Prefect, Head Girl, Honors Student, Outstanding in every O.W.L and N.E.W.T., published author. And those were only her academic achievements.

From Hogwarts, she had taken the Ministry of Magic by storm: Chief Interrogator assigned to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; undefeated advocate before wizards' courts at every level; Chief of Magical Law Enforcement before the age of thirty; youngest-ever Elder of the Wizengamont; Ambassador and diplomat to a dozen different countries; Special Counsel/Envoy for the Minister; and finally, Minister of Magic herself at the end of the first war with Voldemort. The wizarding community had survived, until Voldemort's fall at Godric's Hollow, only because of this woman's strength of character and iron resolve. If there were a wizards' Hall of Fame; Millicent Bagnold would have her own wing in it.

The living legend stopped at their table, eying the three males who had stood as she approached. Tonks had remained seated (she doubted if her knees would support her) although, truthfully, she felt like diving under the table.

The statue-like tableau and eerie silence held sway for several heartbeats until Moody broke it with his bass growl: "Hello, Millie."

"It's been much too long, Alastor" the former Minister spoke; her voice a soft, throaty contralto. "May I join you?"

"Who'd stop you, Millie, if you decided that's what you wanted?" Moody grunted as they all took seats; Millicent Bagnold made her common tavern chair seem like a throne.

Millicent smiled quietly at Moody's remark, and then turned her piercing gaze on Tonks. "Ah, this must be your protégé, Nymphadora." Tonks tried to say 'yes, Minister', but all that emerged was a high-pitched squeak. She covered her mouth in embarrassment. "_Millicent Bagnold_ knows _my_ name!" she thought in a panic.

"That's right" Mad-Eye rumbled. "I see you're keeping current."

"Amelia Bones has been kind enough to send me courtesy copies of certain Aurors' reports. I must say, the two of you make a highly effective team." Millicent turned her gaze on Tonks again and favored her with a brilliant smile. Tonks wanted to comb her own hair and make sure her nose was wiped.

That sharp gaze was now focused fully on Moody, who looked as if he were in a game where the rules had suddenly changed and not to his advantage.

"Alastor, have Barnwald and Mr. Weasley explained the situation?" That resonant voice that had prosecuted murderers and negotiated with foreign rulers was boring in on the big Auror.

"They have" Moody spoke curtly.

"It is extremely important that we find the source and destroy it, Alastor."

"There are other investigators, Millie, better suited for this type of thing" Moody snarled.

"But, _you_ are the best and this state of affairs requires the best."

Moody looked ready to burst, but, he merely shifted in his seat and rumbled, quietly "You know I can't say no to you, Millie."

The former Minister smiled triumphantly. "True, Alastor; an unfair advantage, but, when have I ever shied from using whatever leverage was at my disposal?"

"Not since I've known you. It's one of the things that make you the woman you are."

"How sweet of you to notice" Millicent now stood, the men and Barnwald rising with her. "Take whatever time you need to sort this out; I'll speak to Amelia personally about the matter." She paused and then smiled that dazzling smile. "It's really wonderful to see you again, Alastor." She turned her eyes on Tonks again "And lovely to finally meet you, Nymphadora." She actually reached out and squeezed Tonks' hand. "Do stay in touch, you two." She turned on her heel and left to rejoin the group at the bar, Bill and Barnwald scrambling after her.

Tonks felt her breath whoosh out of her mouth. She turned to her mentor in awe. "You never told me you _know_ Millicent Bagnold!"

Moody took a swallow from his flagon. "We went to Hogwarts together; spent a lot of time in each other's company. And spent a lot of time together at the Ministry." He took another gulp. "A lot of time . . ." He slammed down his mug and scooped up the stack of parchments.

"So, where do we start?" Tonks asked, starting to get into gear with a new case.

"Since we're in the neighborhood" Moody snarled, "we'll hit Diagon Alley."

The Path of Gold

(From _"The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody"_)

Chapter Two – _Window Shopping_

Ask any English witch or wizard the location of the true center of the British magical community and 99 would tell it was Diagon Alley. Here, all manner of enchanted merchandise, services, devices, and raw commodities changed hands daily. It seemed amazing to Tonks that there could be a flourishing business in something as mundane as ice cream.

The wind and driving rain had finally subsided. Tonks was seated at one of the outdoor tables to be found outside of Florean Fetescue's Ice Cream Parlor, greedily slurping down a butterscotch malted and keeping half an ear on Moody's conversation.

Moody sat across the table from her, holding an animated, whispered conversation with one of his numerous street contacts. This one was a short, squat, bandy-legged man with long, straggly, ginger hair, and bloodshot, baggy eyes. Tonks noted his tattered clothing, unshaven face, and the fact that he smelled of stale alcohol and tobacco.

Moody seemed decidedly impatient with the little tramp, whom he referred to as 'Dung'; Tonks could heartily agree with that name. She got two distinct impressions of Dung: that he seemed untrustworthy and that he was absolutely terrified of Mad-Eye.

The conference must have run its course, because she heard Moody dismiss the little man with a growl of: "Well, keep me informed, Dung. Tell me anything you hear; I'll decide if it's important or not."

Dung seemed to take these instructions as a personal threat. "No need to get on so, Mad-Eye; I've told yeh, I'll let yeh know what I can nose out." With which, he vacated his chair and scurried down the street as if on urgent business.

"Are you sure about recruiting the likes of that, Mad-Eye?" Tonks asked in earnest. "He struck me as a cheap pickpocket that I wouldn't trust with the residue of a cat box."

"Your instincts are good, Tonks" Moody rumbled. "Dung Fletcher is the most untrustworthy piece of trash I've ever encountered. But, he's devoted to Dumbledore and he can be mighty handy to have around sometimes since he hears things others don't."

"So, what's our next step?" she asked after swigging a bit more malt. "Do we sit around waiting on Dung? I don't think Fetescue thinks you're very good for business." She chortled under her breath.

Moody picked up the stack of parchments they had received from Bill Weasley. "We start here" he grumbled. "We're looking for a recent shop opening or one that's changed hands recently. We can eliminate those that had initial loans from Gringotts because those goblins know their stuff; they'll thoroughly investigate anyone who asks for money."

With a fresh soda obtained from Florean, Tonks set to the task with a will. Her ice cream slowly diminished as her stack of discards grew. Finally, feeling an ache behind her eyes, she sorted the last sheet into its proper stack and sat back.

"Three shops only that meet our criteria, Moody" she sounded disappointed. Moody scooped up the three papers and read aloud: "'Malcolm's Magical Greenery'; 'Gentry's Exotica'; and 'Fleming's Herbal Teas'." He grunted. "Not exactly the most foreboding list I've ever read." He snorted in disgust and dropped the papers on the table.

Tonks grinned evilly at her mentor. "Do we go together, then? I'll pay money to see _you_ in an herbal tea shop." She snorted with laughter.

"How strong are you in Herbology?" he grumbled back. When she shrugged indifferently, he nodded and said "I'll take Malcolm's; _you_ do the tea shop" he glanced at one paper "and we'll meet at #93 in an hour and check Gentry's together."

With a final muted chuckle, Tonks drained her malt, stood and headed down the street. She knew from her reading that Fleming's Tea Shoppe was tucked away at the far end of Diagon Alley; between Ollivander's and the second-hand robe shop. Moody's target was next door to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary and she glanced back to see him stumping off in the other direction.

Exactly one hour later, Tonks was slouching slowly up the street, wishing she had a staff like Mad-Eye's to help her along. Although all she had done was sit, sip tea and talk, she felt beaten to a pulp mentally. Tonks wasn't sure if any physical conditioning session at the Academy had ever drained her like this last hour had.

She spotted her partner leaning on that staff, waiting for her in the avenue. He watched her approach with an expression that was both concerned and amused.

"What's wrong, Dora?" he inquired politely. "Too much tea?"

"I've only had a single cup" she snarled. "It seems that, in addition to running their tea shop, the Fleming sisters are frustrated, amateur matchmakers and they know _just_ the young man for _me_! They'll set up a meeting if I'll let them slip me into a nice, frilly _dress_!"

"Now, that's something _I'll_ pay money to see!" Moody roared. As Tonks bared her teeth at him, Moody got serious. "What else did you learn, besides that two old women think you've been single long enough?"

Tonks calmly recited the facts she'd learned when not answering questions about how well she could cook and keep house. "It seems Doris and Mildred Fleming are two spinsters who have lived together since their parents died. They have lived all their lives in Sussex; Doris made money giving piano lessons to Muggles, enhanced by magic, while Mildred kept bees and sold jars of home-raised honey. They've dreamed of this little tea shop for over forty years and finally put aside enough to start up."

"They serve a variety of teas imported from China, India, Sri Lanka, and South America. They also carry a line of incense that they bring in from India and the Far East. I've seen their import licenses and they were all in order."

"Even so, illegal materials can be placed in crates sent along legally. South America and China are major gold sources in the world and whoever is manufacturing these fake galleons will need a supply of the raw material." Moody growled, stood ruminating over Tonks' report, and then, made his own.

"Wilfred Malcolm is a hopeless mess of a wizard with no talent for anything other than raising plants. He is the only child of an old, wealthy family; I guess his Dad put up the money for his shop, rather than have him rattling about the house, doing nothing. He wouldn't get specific on his source of funding; possibly out of embarassment"

"He gets his plants from several domestic greenhouses; I've sent a list by owl to Mona Sprout to verify their legitimacy. He's imported a few exotics; all with Ministry approval. He did get a shipment of Kangaroo Bush from Australia, which is another source of gold. So, while I think both shops are unlikely as the center of this counterfeiting operation, we can't rule either out just yet." Moody shook his head. "I guess we may as well check this one, too." He looked disgusted.

Tonks led the way into Gentry's Exotica, glancing at the windows flanking the shop door. One had a display of African tribal masks, headdresses, and drums; the other vases with decorations that smacked of India, wooden tigers, and hookahs.

Inside was a neat, clean little shop with tables and shelves seemingly dedicated to souvenirs from different parts of the world. Native American, South American, Mexican, Scandinavian, Far Eastern, Chinese; Tonks gave up trying to mentally categorize the merchandise and concentrated on evaluating the man behind the counter.

He was tall, lean, and pale; surprisingly young (Tonks estimated he was about 10 years her senior), with a thick, light brown thatch of hair and matching sideburns. He was clad in clean, well-tailored robes of pale green. Her only criticism of his appearance was his eyes: they seemed troubled, sunken, and slightly cadaverous.

"Welcome to Gentry's; I am Niles Gentry; may I help you?" his voice, a pleasant tenor, fit him perfectly.

Moody stumped over to the counter to speak quietly with Gentry while Tonks kept looking at the unique goods inhabiting the shelves. The miniature pyramids and sphinxes from Egypt were exquisite but expensive; a decorated Indian elephant complete with howdah was beautiful, but, she was especially intrigued by some small ivory carvings on a back table.

These appeared to depict various scenes of Eskimo life and culture and examples of Alaskan wildlife. Not much to brag about, except, these little statuettes were moving. The Eskimo in the kayak was paddling; the wolf sat on his haunches and silently howled; the seal clapped his flippers; all were animate and fascinating.

She saw Moody going over import licenses with Gentry, so returned to her perusal. Finally, after a vigorous mental debate (and an inventory of her purse), she selected a tiny ivory polar bear who sniffed for prey, stalked along an imaginary icepack, and reared on his hind legs to scan for quarry in the distance.

Carrying her prize to the counter, she saw Moody had finished his inquiries and was waiting for her.

"I'll take this one" she said, plunking the little bear on the counter.

"Three sickles; special price for Ministry personnel" Gentry smiled a trifle sourly.

Completing her purchase, Tonks pocketed her carving and trotted out the door after Moody. Outside, she caught up to her senior partner and asked "So, which shop houses our mad counterfeiter?"

"I can't be sure yet, Dora" Moody grumbled. "I'll have a better idea after we visit Portsmouth."

"Oh; and what, pray tell, is in Portsmouth?"

"McCarty's Freight Company; at least, that was the name of the import company on all Gentry's bills of lading and on the crates in his back room."

"So, is he a suspect? He struck me as being rather innocuous."

"They're all suspects, right now. I put no greater emphasis on Gentry than the others. He says he saved for his start-up money from his wages; he's been employed in Diagon Alley since he graduated Hogwarts in 1980 and has always wanted his own shop" Moody paused and reflected "and, he has his upstairs living quarters heavily warded."

"That's not especially significant; lots of wizards value their privacy." She glanced at her mentor with a mischievous grin.

"I'm not moving him to the head of the list just yet, Dora" Mad-Eye growled. "We need to move on and he may be the easiest to eliminate."

"Alastor! Tonks! What a pleasant surprise" That high, piercing voice was one of the few which was guaranteed to compel Tonks' full attention at once. The fact was that, while at Hogwarts, she had spent more time in detention for Minerva McGonagall than she had in her dorm. At least, it seemed that way to Tonks.

Now, the tall, severe Transfiguration teacher was striding across the street towards them, a pleased smile on her face. Tonks, perhaps unconsciously, slid behind Moody's right shoulder as they waited politely on McGonagall's approach.

"Hello, Minerva; fancy meeting you here with school in session" Moody said civilly.

"I'm picking up some supplies for my fourth year class" Professor McGonagall said. She rolled her eyes. "This group is going through hedgehogs faster than any I've ever had; although, without much in the way of results."

"Speaking of classes; we've just finished interviewing Niles Gentry. I believe he must be an old student of yours." Moody spoke off-handedly, but Tonks suspected there was purpose behind the question. Moody had always counseled her to make the most of any opportunity to acquire information during an investigation.

"Gentry? Oh yes, of course" McGonagall's eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head. "I had him 15 years ago or so. Not much in the way of talent and not much backbone either, as I recall."

"Did you know he was opening a shop of his own?" Moody asked politely.

"No, this is the first I've heard of that. I must stop in and congratulate him" the professor remarked, with what Tonks could only describe as outright surprise.

"Do you know what he's been doing since graduation, Professor?" Tonks asked.

"I'd heard he found employment with one of the cauldron manufacturers." McGonagall answered. "That and squandering his money as fast as he earned it; Quite the party animal is Niles Gentry." She looked disgusted.

Moody seemed thoughtful. "So, how did he save up to start his own shop?"

"I wouldn't know" Professor McGonagall said, a touch impatiently. "It certainly wasn't through talent. All he ever showed any exceptional aptitude for was transfiguring metals."

The Path of Gold

(From _"The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody"_)

Chapter Three – _Cold Storage_

Portsmouth, by virtue of being the only English city sitting entirely on a small island, has always been an important seaport. Both the Royal Navy and the commercial shipping industry have thrived in this municipality since men first took to the sea.

Portsmouth harbor at night offered an impelling vista to the casual tourist. The blue-black water with its rhythmic ripples beautifully complemented the star-sprinkled shroud of the southern sky. The snoozing hulks of darkened freighters rocked to-and-fro with the waves and the cold wind. The creak of the crane booms swaying in the wind sang soprano to the baritone groans of the wharfs.

Set back from the waterline, clusters of dark, silent warehouses provided a temporary respite to the countless crates of goods that had paused in their travels. Here and there, a weak streetlamp cast a thin yellow cone of light into the unrelenting black of the broad avenues that separated the redundant looking structures.

The feral cats, which failed miserably in their duty of keeping the area rat-free, were startled out of their focus on their appointed rounds by an unfamiliar sounding_ clunk – clunk. _ Moody and Tonks strolled purposefully down one of the dark boulevards, constantly scanning signs posted near the walk-in doors of warehouse after warehouse.

"There" Moody barked, pointing with his staff. Tonks, who could see nothing in the gloom, followed his lead and sauntered in the indicated direction. Slowly, a splotch of white struggled out of the unrelenting black of the building, finally congealing into a faded white board sign with red block letters. 'McCarty Freight Company' it broadcast to any who cared to glance at it.

A quick glance by Moody scanned for Muggle authorities, and then, at his nod, Tonks applied the wizard's version of the skeleton key, _"Alohamora"_. The pair pushed through the unresisting door, closed it behind them, and surveyed the environs.

The interior of the warehouse showed the building to be a virtual hollow shell. One corner to their left had been walled off to form a small office, but, the remainder of the floor space, adequate for a small cathedral was covered with cargo and the tools for handling it in an efficient manner.

To their immediate right sat an undersized industrial forklift, scratched and dented from years of unappreciated service. Beyond the lift sat a tired-looking lorry; faded, dented with a musty canvas cover over the bed, sat poised before the double doors that provided it escape into the streets.

The rest of the storehouse was filled to the roof with sealed crates and cases of material, laid out in even rows and precariously stacked. A narrow alley was available for forklift operation between the rows, but, the overall impression was a labyrinth of wood, dust, and cobwebs.

Moody stood, contemplating the task before them, snorted through his nose and said "Lock the door and let's get busy. You start on the right; I'll start on the left."

Tonks looked at the towering line up of crates, heaved a huge sigh, and began creeping along the first row, examining the labels and stencils on each container. Slowly, meticulously, she went over every box on her end of the warehouse. She found crates from all over the globe, intended for various locations about the Isles, but, saw nothing intended for Diagon Alley.

She was feeling frustrated and impatient when she turned down her fifth aisle and saw Moody working his way towards her. She quickly scanned the remaining crates on her end and met her partner in the middle.

"Now what, Mad-Eye?" she queried. "This place is a dead-end."

Moody stood quietly, turning events over in his mind. "There's got to be something we're overlooking, Dora" he rumbled. "The dates on the packing crates at Gentry's show dates of approximately 3 week intervals and the latest were the first of this month. There should be a shipment for him right now."

Suddenly, he smacked his forehead with his hand, barked "Idiot!" spun on his heel and stumped toward the front of the warehouse. Tonks hurried to catch up. Moody was shaking his head in disgust.

"It's in the back of the lorry" he snapped, impatient with himself. "I should've checked there first." They stopped at the rear of the vehicle and Moody yanked the tarp to one side. "There, have a look, Tonks."

Tonks boosted herself up on the bumper and peered in the bed of the carrier. Three wooden crates, twice as long as they were wide, were tightly packed in the bed. The two on the ends were adorned with cargo labels: one had originated in Mombassa; the other in San Diego. The center crate, however, was marked only with a strange device: a stencil of a rampant eagle with two heads.

"Which is it, Mad-Eye?" Tonks hissed.

"The middle one" he rumbled back. "There's a false bottom and the hidden compartment is stuffed with nuggets. I think we should . . ." Moody broke off suddenly and looked towards the door.

"Company" he barked and helped her down from her perch. "Against the back wall, quick!"

As they retreated to the rear of the warehouse, Tonks heard the door bang open, muttered voices, and the shuffling of many feet. Bracing against the rear wall, Moody quickly applied his Disillusionment spell to both of them.

After several tense moments, Tonks felt warm breath on her ear. "They're grouping about that lorry" she heard Moody rumble. "Let's sneak up and eavesdrop a bit" Tonks nodded her understanding and began to stealthily creep up the aisle towards the intruders.

Reaching the mouth of the row, Tonks crouched and listened. A large group of common street toughs, a dozen or so, were grouped about a tall, lean figure in a concealing robe who was quietly issuing instructions. One man was in the cab of the lorry, fiddling under the dashboard.

Tonks rose out of her crouch, concentrating on the group leader, when it happened. Her left elbow brushed a precariously stacked box that came crashing to the floor.

All heads instantly turned in her direction. The robed figure pulled out a wand and launched a magical flare to the ceiling. "Spies!" he bellowed. "Get them!"

Three of the thugs, armed with crowbars and hammers, were heading straight at Tonks. Glancing over, she saw the shadowy form of Moody being surrounded by the bulk of the crowd. Suddenly, a large packing crate detached from a pile and began to cartwheel through the group of hoodlums, scattering them like tenpins.

Tonks retreated down the aisle, her three assailants following. "Well, I guess they can see me" she thought. Waving her wand, she shouted _"Reducto"_ and destroyed a crate at the bottom of a stack right next to the ruffians. The remaining crates toppled directly onto the small gang, knocking them all to the ground.

Suddenly, the engine of the lorry roared to life. "Damn!" Tonks thought. "He was hotwiring the thing!" She heard the vehicle crash through the large double doors, the squeal of tires and the fading sound of the truck and its cargo vanishing into the night.

Tonks sprinted around the end of the stacked crates and turned up the next aisle. She pulled up abruptly as the lean, cloaked figure of the group leader stood there, blocking her exit. He pointed his wand at her and shook back his hood, revealing the pale features of Niles Gentry.

"I was afraid you two would turn up here after your visit to my shop" he snarled. "You're mucking in the wrong business, girly, and now, you'll have to pay."

As he loosed a bolt from his wand, Tonks instantly invoked a Shield charm, shoulder-rolled to her right, and came up firing.

_"Expelliarmus"_ she roared. Her blast caught Gentry square in the chest and sent the shop keeper flying backwards into an unsteady stack of crates. An avalanche of wood thundered to the floor, engulfing Tonks' assailant with a cloud of dust.

Tonks strode forward and stood over the smoking figure of Gentry, lying in a heap in the midst of a pile of tumbled crates. Her normally-attractive features were contorted in a sneer of pure contempt. "The day I can't best some store clerk in a duel, I _will_ let the Fleming sisters stuff me in a dress and marry me off."

She looked over her shoulder as Mad-Eye came stumping over to join her. "I got Gentry" she said "but, the fellow got away with the lorry and the crate."

"Then, we tie up loose ends here and move on" her partner growled. He pointed his wand at Gentry, murmured _"Encarcerous"_, and quickly had the store keeper bound like a Christmas gift.

Next, Moody pointed his wand at the wreck of the double doors and bellowed _"Expecto Patronum." _Silver mist shot out of the end of his wand and swiftly coalesced into the form of a large, male lion. "Go report the situation to Amelia" Moody barked and the great, silver beast turned and sprinted off into the night.

"What was that all about, Moody?" Tonks asked with interest.

"A trick of Dumbledore's" her mentor replied. "Highly effective means of communication. Remind me to show you later."

"So, what now?" Tonks inquired. "Do we go back to Diagon Alley and close down Gentry's shop?"

Moody shook his head. "Once Amelia's squad collects Gentry and his stooges, we head for Diagon Alley, all right. But, we're going to Madam Malkin's"

"What do we need at the robe shop?"

"You need a temperature adjusting travel cloak, like mine" Moody said. "Where we're going next, it's apt to be a bit chilly", he eyed his partner significantly, "In more ways than one."


	2. Chapter 2

The Path of Gold

(From _"The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody"_)

Chapter Four – _Hostile Territory_

Chilly was a total understatement, as far as Tonks was concerned. When she and Moody completed their port-key jump to this damp, pre-dawn forest somewhere on the European continent, Tonks decided this new location was downright frigid.

Wrapping her new cloak tightly about her, Tonks watched silently as Moody scanned their surroundings. They stood in a small clearing in the depths of a pitch-dark, rain soaked forest. Rain water dripped from the leaves, the black tree trunks stood like endless rows of columns in some ancient temple, and a brisk, cutting wind attacked her from every direction.

"Did you wear your choker, like I told you?" Moody growled. In answer, Tonks turned her back and lifted her dangling tresses with one hand, revealing the ornamental choker, shiny black leather decorated with silver studs.

"Hold still" he murmured, pulling out his wand. He touched the wand to the choker and muttered "_Reddo Totus."_ Tonks felt a slight tingle, but, could see no obvious result from the spell.

"What does that one do, Mad-Eye?" she asked curiously.

"It's the Universal translator" he rumbled. "As we'll be traveling in foreign lands, we need to communicate with the locals. Apply it to an article you're wearing" here, he raised the left sleeve of his robe to reveal a copper wrist band "and you'll hear and read the native language in English. All your speech and writing will automatically convert to the language of your audience. It's a handy little charm, when you don't have the language skills of our guide."

"So, that's who you sent the owl to while I was trying on robes. And just who is our guide?" Tonks asked with interest. "Someone we can trust, I'm sure."

"Totally trust-worthy, Dora" he replied. "I've known him for years and can rely on him completely."

Just then, a sharp, nasal voice cut through the darkness: "Punctual as always, Alastor. I'm sure you realize that this will not be a pleasant chore."

"Damn few of my chores are pleasant, Barty; so, you'll excuse me if I don't tremble over this one" Moody growled as the unseen speaker stepped out of the darkness and joined the Aurors.

This new arrival was a gentleman of Moody's generation. Through the opening of his gray travel cloak, Tonks could make out an impeccably tailored black suit, starched white shirtfront adorned with a burgundy tie, and black dress shoes shined to a high-gloss finish. A black bowler hat was perched atop slicked-down black hair, rapidly going gray. The man had a poker-stiff, almost military bearing and wore a precisely-trimmed Hitler-like "toothbrush" mustache. His eyes, while dark and alert were surrounded by crow's-foot wrinkles and his brow was permanently furrowed, giving Tonks the impression of someone dealing with powerful inner conflicts and woe.

"Barty, this is my apprentice, Nymphadora Tonks. Tonks, meet Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Office for International Magical Cooperation."

Tonks goggled at this introduction. This case was dragging her into highly refined circles: first, a former Minister of Magic; now, the wizarding equivalent of the Foreign Minister or Secretary of State. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Crouch" she murmured, fighting off the impulse to bob a little curtsey.

"Charmed, my dear" Crouch replied, looking anything but. "Shall we go, Moody?" That said, he turned and started marching through the forest, holding an illuminated wand aloft. The Aurors followed closely.

As they walked, Tonks mentally reviewed everything she could remember about their illustrious guide. Barty Crouch had been Head of Magical Law Enforcement during the war with Voldemort. He had generated a popular following by dealing harshly with all those associated with the Dark Lord. Some had denounced him as too harsh, even ruthless. He had authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses by the Aurors, handing out a license to kill without due process. This, along with his callous presiding at the Wizengamont and the way he had brutally sentenced his own son to Azkaban, had turned the tide of his fashionable appeal.

In the end, when Millicent Bagnold had abruptly retired, the Minister's office had gone to Cornelius Fudge instead of Barty Crouch. Fudge had immediately appointed Crouch to his current post; seemingly a promotion, but, in actuality, a career killer. Crouch spent so much time traveling in foreign countries that few people would recognize him if he strolled Diagon Alley in broad daylight. Tonks suspected this was Fudge's true motive: to keep Crouch from ever regaining the level of support he had previously enjoyed.

It was interesting, in her mind, to compare the two senior wizards walking with her. Crouch was, to all appearances, a consummate politician. Distinguished, debonair, and cultured, it was amazing that such a callous and brutal nature dwelt within him.

Moody, on the other hand, had an appearance that scared the crap out of people who didn't know him. His manner was gruff, impatient, and coarse, yet she knew full well the chivalrous and gallant soul under that forbidding exterior. She had seen him kill, more than once, but only when his hand was forced. More often, he took his prisoners alive, often at great personal cost, and she knew how often he championed those less fortunate than himself. Certainly fodder to be mentally chewed over at her leisure

Suddenly, Moody halted, raised one hand, and said "Hold it, Barty!" He stood transfixed, his magic eye whirling like a top on drugs.

Then, he growled "Form a circle, back to back; wands out and ready."

Tonks immediately leaped to put her back to Moody's; wand out; all senses on full alert, while Crouch stammered "Alastor . . . what on Earth?"

"We've got visitors, Barty" Moody snarled, continuing to survey the area, "and, from the way they're moving, I don't think they're here for our benefit."

Crouch stared at Moody another moment, then, rapidly, joined the defensive circle, wand ready for action.

_"Palme Contego."_ Moody bellowed, whirling his staff above his head like a propeller and covering the trio with a shimmering, translucent shield of pure violet-colored energy. His action was not a moment too soon, because the surrounding woods were saturated with small, sharp explosions and unseen bits were pinging off the shield all around them.

"Muggles with guns" he snarled to his companions. "Just hold fast; they can't penetrate the shield. When they run out of ammunition, we counter-attack."

But, guns were apparently not all they faced. On Tonks' side of the formation, bolts of greenish lightning were suddenly crackling against the shield as well.

"Mad-Eye!" she called, "there's a wizard out there too!"

"Then, he'd best be a damn good one" Moody thundered, "because they've about run out of bullets and I've about run out of patience!"

Both statements were soon proved to be undeniable facts. The hail of bullets dwindled, and then died; Moody dropped the shield and Tonks began firing stunners blindly into the trees toward the source of the lightning. She was quickly joined by Crouch and together, they saturated the area with an unrelenting bombardment.

Moody, meanwhile, whirled his wand aloft, roaring _"Volubilis Incendia"_ as he did. A monstrous ball of flame appeared and began circling the trio, rolling ruthlessly through the trees. In the illumination of the fire, Tonks could make out shadowy forms scurrying for cover, crying out in fear and pain.

She distinctly heard one call "Avery, what do we do now?" The high-pitched response of "RUN!" was instantly obeyed and the figures beat a hasty retreat, leaving two angry Aurors and a fuming diplomat in sole possession of the small clearing.

"Outrageous!" Crouch rasped. "To be set upon while on a diplomatic mission undermines every tenet of civilized relations between nations. Igor will certainly hear about this from me."

"I don't think he had anything to do with this, Barty" Moody rumbled. "It would make more sense for him to attack us inside the castle, where he has a major advantage. And, since when does he rely on Muggles?" Moody paused, appearing to be mentally digesting something. "I wonder, though . . ."

Tonks waited patiently for her mentor, but, Crouch shed any appearance of patience. "Let's proceed, Moody. We may be put upon again at any time." Suiting actions to words, he continued up the path, trailed by the Aurors.

The morning sun was slowly edging above the horizon as the threesome walked in silence through the woods. The red-gold light was spreading about them as they reached the end of the tree line and halted. Tonks took in the amazing vista laid out before them.

They stood on the western edge of a wide, flat valley spreading at the foot of the mountains. At the northern and southern ends of the valley lay twin lakes of a deep, azure blue. Directly across from them ran a narrow strip of land, separating the lakes and leading to the mountains which formed the valley's eastern flank. Sitting in the shade of the mountains was a small, gray-stone castle.

As Crouch lead the way across the isthmus toward the structure, Tonks was able to study it in detail. It was an impressive and imposing edifice. The central feature of the castle was the keep, or donjon; the main commanding tower. This was a blocky, rectangular building, four stories high, constructed of gray stone blocks, topped by a pitched roof of near-black slate. At the pinnacle, a tall flagpole was adorned with a banner of gold and red that hung limply in the cool morning air.

The ground floor of the keep was featureless, save for a massive wooden double door set in the center of the wall. The upper floors were pock-marked with narrow windows regularly spaced around the tower.

Flanking the keep, on either side, were two single-story wings built of the same materials as the keep. These wings seemed about 200 feet long, marked by doors every ten feet or so, and appeared to serve as barracks or dormitories.

Tonks watched as the occupants of the dorms were straggling out into the paved courtyard for, what appeared to be, a session of morning calisthenics. The large group, about 200 she calculated, was uniformly male, all in their early to late teens, and garbed in fur-trimmed bodysuits of dark red. The older men seemed to be haranguing the younger ones to form up ranks and get the exercise started. Tonks wasn't sure if they were visiting a military camp or a penal colony, but, she had an intuitive sense that this place did not receive visitors in a cordial manner.

"Moody," she asked in a slightly nervous tone, "Exactly where are we?"

"This is Durmstrang Institute, Tonks" Moody replied, scanning the scene before them, "One of the most prestigious magic schools on the continent."

Tonks looked at her mentor incredulously. "This place is a _school_??" She shook her head in amazement. "You must be joking, Mad-Eye. I thought it was a prison."

"The way it's run, some of the students might agree with you" Moody growled.

"Durmstrang carries a rather unsavory reputation as a harsh, strict environment." Mr. Crouch added. "They are also chauvinistic, parochial, and extremely paranoid."

"Oh, just lovely" Tonks sighed. "So, why are we here?" She looked at Moody expectantly.

For an answer, Moody pulled out his wand and pointed it at the flagpole. A momentary stir in the air unfurled the banner out fully, revealing a blood-red eagle with spread wings and two heads on a field of gold.

As Moody pocketed his wand and the flag subsided to its former limp state, Tonks whispered "That's the same emblem that was on the crate in Portsmouth."

"Yeah, it is" Moody snarled. "We need to see if there's a connection, but, we can only do that by interviewing the Headmaster." He grimaced in a more-sour-than-normal manner.

"So, what's the problem?" Tonks looked baffled. "Talking to some school teacher isn't exactly an _ordeal_, is it?"

Moody turned to eye Tonks significantly. "With this particular school teacher, it may well be. His name is Igor Karkaroff; he's a former Death Eater . . . and I'm the Auror who caught him and Barty here sent him to Azkaban."

The Path of Gold

(From _"The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody"_)

Chapter Five – _Interviews at Durmstrang_

Tonks stared at her mentor in open-mouthed shock. "Mad-Eye" she rasped, "I believe this time you've gone totally barking mad."

Moody grunted noncommittally. "That's always a possibility, Tonks. But, we need to get to the bottom of this."

Crouch looked at the quarreling Aurors with an air of great irritation. "Moody, I was under the impression that you had a suspect in custody."

Moody shook his head. "Gentry is an untalented git, Barty. The idea of him spearheading an international conspiracy of this complexity is laughable." Moody paused as though taking a mental inventory of pertinent facts. "No, I'm convinced this runs much deeper. I think it's imperative we interview Karkaroff."

"Well" Crouch intoned with disgust, "he should at least remember I'm _also_ the one that set him free." He looked at Mad-Eye expectantly.

"_That_ little detail may have slipped his memory. But, rest assured, he'll remember who locked him up." Crouch appeared to shudder slightly.

Moody barked a sour laugh and said "Well, we can't die any younger! Let's go!" and, with that grim bit of philosophy, headed across the narrow spit of land towards the castle. Crouch and Tonks followed in his wake.

The Durmstrang inhabitants had formed up ranks and were exercising vigorously in the pave-stoned courtyard as the trio approached. Standing to one side, possibly supervising, was an older man. He was tall and heavily built, dressed in flowing red robes. His gray hair was cropped severely, he sported a long scar on one cheek, and his expression appeared to be a permanent scowl.

Now, this figure detached from the others, strode over, and planted himself decisively in their path, and then addressed the three visitors in what sounded like heavily accented English.

"Trespassers are forbidden on zese premises; you vill remove yourselves at vonce or suffer severe penalties"

Crouch stopped short and responded "I am Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Office for International Magical Cooperation for the Ministry of Magic in London. We are here to see Professor Karkaroff."

The only effect this pronouncement had on their hostile impediment was a slight increase in the acerbic look on his face. "Karkaroff has said notting to me about visitors. I am Deputy Headmaster Vilhelm Van Okken, Chief of Transfigurations und Curses for Durmstrang Institute. I gif you fair varning: leave immediately. Ve _do not_ tolerate intruders" Van Okken suddenly shot an extended index finger directly at Tonks, "und ve do not want ze likes of _her_ about, tempting und distracting our students."

Shot full of indignation, Tonks readied a withering reply, but got no chance to deliver it. Moody stepped up to stand nose to nose with Van Okken and glare directly into his eyes. "We have an appointment, _Professor_" the big Auror quietly snarled.

To his credit, Van Okken did not step back; however, his eyes widened and he pulled his head back quickly, as though he feared his face would be bitten off at any moment. He seemed to reconsider the situation because, turning his head, he barked at one student: "Ernst! Go ask ze Headmaster if visitors are expected! At vonce!"

The deputized youngster separated from his classmates and took off at a sprint. Van Okken glanced at Moody, eyes still wide. Mad-Eye nodded once brusquely and stepped back to rejoin Tonks and Crouch.

Professor Van Okken took the opportunity to pull his dignity together and excuse himself from the state of affairs. He spun on his heel and strode back to the students, stiff-necked and admonishing them to increase their efforts or face a 10 mile hike before breakfast.

Feeling slightly mollified by Van Okken's retreat, Tonks looked about the courtyard a bit as Moody and Crouch held a whispered conversation.

The space was large enough to accommodate even more students than were presently exercising vigorously under the baleful frown of Professor Van Okken.

In fact, there were more students present, she now noted.

Lounging next to the entrance was a large group of older teens who merely observed the goings-on. Examining this group critically, she began to make out slings, casts, canes, and crutches in profusion. "I wonder how seriously these chaps take their Quiddich?" she thought.

As she observed them, she noted that her visual examination was being returned by the objects of her scrutiny. But, their attitude was definitely an improvement over their teacher.

Rather than the overt hostility of Van Okken, these young men were looking at her the way someone on an all-vegetable diet might eye a chocolate sundae.

As Tonks began to contemplate the investigative possibilities of the boys' interest, a breathless Ernst came tearing out into the yard and addressed Crouch and Moody: "If you vill follow me, pleaze."

Crossing the threshold into the keep, Tonks had expected a Hogwarts in miniature. This was decidedly _not_ the case. The interior of Durmstrang was austere in the extreme. All was cold and grey; no splashes of color, no sounds of life and laughter, no bright sunshine. This was like the dungeons at Hogwarts if Dementors could suck the joy out of them.

Ernst ushered them to a dark, wooden door on the ground floor, hollered 'Your guests, Professor', and then waved them through before scurrying away.

The headmaster's office did nothing to raise Tonks' opinion of the place. Grey stone floor and wall, no wall hangings or decorations; all light came from a weak, tepid fire on the hearth that dominated one wall.

The center of the room was occupied by a heavy, dark-colored desk. Three wooden chairs stood at attention in front of the desk while the warden of this office sat behind it, studying the three newcomers with undisguised malice.

Igor Karkaroff was a slightly-built, older man of about Moody's age. He wore well-tailored beige robes trimmed at the collar and cuffs with rich, dark sable fur. His face was careworn, his skin sallow. Shoulder length dark-brown hair, shot with silver, adorned the top of his head, matched by a similarly colored mustache and goatee. Tonks noted that his eyes were dark and shiny and held no expression except deep contempt.

He leaned back in his chair, as though to keep as much distance between them as possible. When he spoke, his words were tinged with a trace of some Eastern European accent (which Tonks could not place) and held emotional warmth she thought as phony as one of Gentry's galleons.

"I see you've arrived for our appointment, Crouch; although I wish the circumstances . . . _and the company_, were otherwise."

"Igor," Crouch responded stiffly, "this is painful to all of us; there's no need to make it more so by being hostile."

"Of course, of course; how very . . . _ungracious_ of me" Karkaroff smiled, showing an array of uneven, yellow-stained teeth.

The three visitors arranged themselves in the available chairs and waited. The headmaster studiously ignored the Aurors and continued to direct his attention to Crouch, a sneer pasted across his features.

"I should tell you, Igor" Crouch said, with all the scorn he could muster, "that my companions and I were attacked and forced to defend ourselves as we approached this castle. This incident will be included in my report to the Ministry and may have an unproductive influence on the negotiations over our upcoming project."

The diplomat remained ramrod straight; the very picture of affronted decorum. Karkaroff showed a momentary flash of shock at the mention of the attack, and then shrugged off the incident with his characteristic smirk.

"I'm quite sorry to hear about this, Crouch" he said. "These woods are home to some unsavory bands of brigands and, I'm afraid, unwary travelers must take their chances."

"Are the woods also home to many former Death Eaters, Karkaroff?" Moody growled.

"Need I explain how unwelcome you are here, Moody?" Karkaroff intoned with unconcealed malice, still refusing to look in Mad-Eye's direction.

"Of course not, Karkaroff: we've already had a couple of samples of Durmstrang's legendary hospitality. Just give us the facts about shipments of gold from this region to Gentry's Exotica in Diagon Alley and we'll leave you in peace."

Now, the headmaster swiveled his head to stare directly at Moody. "Gold? Diagon Alley! I have no idea what you're babbling about, Moody, and have no time to listen to your paranoid delusions!"

All Tonks' instincts bellowed 'LIAR' . . . and so did her mentor. Moody was on his feet, leaning over the desk.

"You're a liar as well as a coward and a turncoat, Karkaroff!!" Moody thundered. "I know you're involved and I want to know who got to you. Was it Avery?"

Karkaroff was also on his feet, equal portions of rage and fear. "I tell you, I know nothing of this matter and I want you to leave!"

"You're up to your neck in this business, Karkaroff, and I mean to know what it's all about or I'll have your scalp!" Moody roared.

"If I tell you anything, my life may be forfeit" Karkaroff raged.

Moody snarled back "Your life may be forfeit if you tell us _nothing_, Karkaroff!"

To Tonks, the headmaster seemed torn by indecision. His eyes and shoulders bespoke pure defiance, but there was a slight tremble evident in his jaw and limbs. He appeared to be trying to choose which poison to swallow while searching frantically for an escape from his position altogether.

Suddenly, Karkaroff turned defiant. "I will waste no more time on this matter; I have a school to run." Before Mad-Eye could retort, Karkaroff bent down and opened a drawer in his desk. He straightened up to find Moody's and Tonks' wands pointed directly at his heart. But, there was no need.

In one hand, Karkaroff held a thick folder, stuffed with official looking papers. He dropped this on the desk and stepped away. As the three Britishers watched him, he seemed to look off into space and spoke softly:

"After all, I cannot be held responsible for what may be found, during an unauthorized search of my office, when I am not present."

So saying, Karkaroff turned his back on his visitors and left the office, as though marching defiantly to the gallows.

Tonks looked askance at her mentor. "What was that all about? I thought you two were going to come to blows; then, he simply caves in. Do you understand this, Moody?"

"Aye; the cowardly weasel is giving us what we want, but in a manner which keeps his backside covered." Mad-Eye snorted in disgust; "As if his crowd will ever accept excuses."

"Why did he give in so easily, Mad-Eye" Tonks asked, thoroughly confused by Karkaroff's ready capitulation. "I thought we'd have to argue and fight with him all day to get anything."

Moody grunted in disgust. "Always remember this about Igor Karkaroff, Dora: There's a lot less there than meets the eye!"

Shrugging her shoulders and dismissing Karkaroff from her mind, Tonks opened the folder and began to examine the contents.

The top portion of the stack consisted of a half-dozen bills of lading, showing shipments at regular intervals from Bremerhaven to 'McCarty's Freight & Storage, Portsmouth Harbor, UK.'

"This is it, Moody" she called. "Durmstrang is definitely the source of Gentry's gold."

"Don't read too much into those papers, Dora" Moody counseled his apprentice. "Remember _all_ the details and include them in your theory: there are no gold mines in this area and what do you make of your little polar bear and his friends?"

"Well, what do you make of it, then?"

"That Karkaroff is just a middle-man in the affair, not the mastermind. If he were running the show, why would he be so fearful? He's not on English soil, we can't really touch him. Besides, we haven't looked at the whole folder, yet."

Conceding Moody's argument, Tonks pulled the remains of the folder out and placed it on the desk. This consisted of a heavy bundle of papers stapled into one document. As she read the top page, her brows knitted in confusion.

"Moody, I don't understand this" she called. "This is another shipping document, but it's going the wrong way."

"Going the wrong way; what do you mean, child?" Crouch put in.

"Well, look; this is a manifest for a packing case #68745; to be shipped, by train, due east with final destination. . ." she paused to find the data, then raised her gaze to the wizards, totally perplexed: " . . . _Vladivostok??"_

Crouch seemed ready to explode with impatience. "This makes less sense, the deeper we get into it; Vladivostok is no major source of gold."

"No" Moody growled, "but, _Alaska_ is and those carvings were definitely Alaskan. Besides, Vladivostok _is_ a major port on the Pacific."

"I think you're onto it, Moody" Tonks said, full of pride for her mentor. "Still, what do you make of these little items: the rest of this stack are exemptions from customs inspection for every station and province this container goes through."

Moody ruminated a bit. "I suppose they didn't want the contents tampered with. That's suggestive of illegal activity, but not absolute." He looked at Tonks; "Anything else, Dora?"

"Just this in the remarks section of the manifest: 'Handle IAW attached instructions. DO NOT DEVIATE!' She leafed through the pile again. "There's no copy of the instructions." She sounded disappointed as she dropped the bundle back on the desk.

Crouch pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. "It certainly appears that Igor is immersed in something nefarious. I wish I could cancel my negotiations with him; however, Fudge's instructions were quite explicit and he was rather firm."

"We'll leave you to it, then, Barty. But, it seems Tonks and I will be traveling on to Vladivostok. I've never been there, so, any help you can provide would be appreciated."

"Yes, of course" Crouch said. "I'll write you a letter of introduction; I know some useful contacts at the Offices of Magical Regulation in several of the provinces, as well as Moscow." Seating himself at Karkaroff's desk, he drew a blank parchment and quill to himself and began to write.

As the Aurors stepped out of the castle entrance, Tonks saw the exercises had finished and Van Okken was addressing the students, possibly with morning assignments or chores. She also saw that the small group of injured students was still looking at her with definite admiration.

"Make the most of any opportunity to acquire information during an investigation." Tonks repeated to herself. Putting on a smile, she strolled over to the nearest member of her fan club.

He was one of the older students, probably two or three years Tonks' junior. Like most of the Durmstrang students, he was large and muscular, but had a rather pleasant face with a decidedly Nordic look to him. Tonks wouldn't have minded meeting up with him in her favorite London disco.

"Hello" she addressed the boy. "I'm Tonks."

He returned her smile. "My name is Hans."

"Are you a student here, Hans?"

"Yes, this is my final year"

"You didn't exercise with the others. Are you injured?"

"Yes, trouble vit my back. But, it's much better now than it vas this spring."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Hans. How did you hurt it?"

The effect of that question on Hans was remarkable. His eyes became distended, his brow furrowed, his body began to twitch violently, and he emitted a broad spectrum of choking and gagging sounds.

Tonks jumped back in a panic. "Mad-Eye" she called. "Come quick; I think he's having a fit."

Moody stumped over, gave Hans a cursory examination, and said "Tell him he doesn't have to answer, Tonks."

"Hans, don't answer that question!" Tonks shrilled. The effect was immediate: Hans relaxed back to a normal state, although he panted furiously for breath.

"What's all this, Moody?" she asked her mentor.

"Someone's placed a Geas on him, to prevent him speaking on certain subjects."

"Geas? I've only hear the name; what's the history?"

"An ancient precursor to the Imperious curse; the Geas walls off part of the mind. It went out of vogue because it can only prevent certain actions. The Imperious is much more versatile."

"Can you use Legilimency to see what he's hiding?"

"Too dangerous; I could break through, but it would damage that part of his mind."

Tonks looked at Moody, a puzzled expression across her face. "Mad-Eye, why would anyone want to hide how Hans got injured?"

"They probably don't. That may just be peripheral to the actual hidden subject." Moody stood in thought for a moment, and then addressed himself to Hans. "Tell me, boy; what do you know about some shipment sent to Vladivostok this spring."

The effect was instantaneous; Hans was back in twitch mode until Moody called him off.

"Hans, I'm sorry we put you through this" Tonks smiled and patted his shoulder. "Please, just tell us anything you can."

Hans looked at the Aurors, thought a moment, and then suddenly adopted a horrified expression like he'd been told the date of his own death. Looking around, he leaned forward and spoke in a blood-curdling whisper: "Deez!!"


	3. Chapter 3

The Path of Gold

(From _"The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody"_)

Chapter Six – _The Czarina Katrina_

Vladivostok at night was an odd combination of the classic and the bizarre, rather like a venerable matron who attempted to dress in the manner of her teenaged granddaughter; a mixture of the sad and the absurd.

The lights of the city made it seem an uncultivated kind of mysterious borough. There was no consistency to the intensity of light, bulbs periodically flickered, street lights were intermittent at best, and, often, electrical failure darkened the entire municipality.

The docks of Vladivostok harbor were amazing, like a living entity unto themselves, a thriving colony of constant activity, even in the dead of night, as ships of every size and nationality arrived to disgorge or take on cargo. Sailors of all lands and races bustled about the docks, warehouses, and vessels. The cargo booms towered high above the water, the ripples of the ocean lapped against the wharfs, and the cargo and fishing boats strained at their tethers, under the watchful eyes of the handful of ships of the Russian navy.

If the harbor of Portsmouth could be called a rough-edged, but gentle and attractive, English serving girl, Vladivostok was a bent, grey Russian peasant woman, weighed down and worn out by time and the cares of survival.

The harbormaster's office which served the docks at Vladivostok was a remnant of the old days, built for efficiency instead of comfort and achieving neither. The square room was hardly bigger than a western outhouse; the windows were yellowed, scratched plexi-glass; the door hung crookedly above the scraped, pitted linoleum; and every nook, cranny, shelf, and carton was stuffed full of faded, dry forms which were of no practical use to anyone.

Alex Novikoff of the Kamchatka Office of Magical Regulation yawned heavily and watched as the two English Aurors rummaging through yet another box of the past years' manifests. He would have gladly assisted the Brits of his own volition, but the letter from his old friend Barty ensured they would get his supreme effort.

Mad-Eye reached up to scratch his head under his newly-purchased Russian hat, a large, black-woolen affair which would comfortably cover his magic eye at need.

Tonks stifled her own yawn and reached for the next stack. They had arrived just before sunset and had been at this for hours. She started through the new pile when her eye caught the number 68745. A quick mental comparison of the dates on these manifests matched the shipping documents she had reviewed in Karkaroff's office.

"Moody, I think I've got it" she called to her partner. She passed the paperwork over to her partner, who rummaged through them, muttering out loud.

"Hmm . . . _The Czarina Katrina_ . . . regular run between Vladivostok and Kotzebue . . ." Moody looked up at their host. "Alex, pull down the registry records on the freighter _Czarina Katrina._"

Novikoff shrugged and threw open a large ledger that sat upon the counter. "I'll show you the records, Alastor, but I know that ship. It's owned by one of the most respected magical families in this province. Their middle son is a squib, unfortunately, and has captained the _Czarina _for nearly forty years."

Moody glanced at the open page of the register and broke into the feral grimace that passed for his smile. "That respected family name is what cinches the affair, Alex. Let's go have a little chat with the captain."

They exited the office and strolled down the docks. Moody studiously pulled his new hat down over his magical eye. Abruptly, Novikoff turned onto a pier with a single ship moored at its very end.

_The Czarina_ _Katrina_ was a rusty old tramp steamer, gently rocking on the swells; crates, along with travel trunks and all types of supplies were piled haphazardly about her decks. Looking up from the dock where she was tied up, an informal observer might have thought the ship a derelict. Many would be surprised to learn she was not only inhabited, but shocked that she was seaworthy as well.

Smoke was wafting gently from her stacks and a single, dim light shown through the windows of her wheelhouse. Tonks noted that twin gangways flanked the wheelhouse on either side, leading down to the deck and the front of the ship.

Moody and Tonks followed Novikoff up the gangplank from the dock onto the _Czarina_. They stood on the starboard side deck, scanning their surroundings. The craft was totally devoid of any signs of life.

"Mikhail must be in the wheelhouse" Alex intoned. "He's too cheap to leave a light burning. Follow me." He started up the starboard gangway followed by Tonks and Moody.

As Novikoff raised his hand to knock on the door, Tonks heard a bang and clatter from the other side of the wheelhouse. "He's making a break for it!" Moody roared and drew his wand.

"_F__unis permoveo"_ bellowed the big Auror. An orange jet of light struck the hempen rope depended from the port cargo boom. Swift as a black mamba, the rope flew out and tripped the fleeing fugitive. As he hollered in outrage, the rope wrapped itself around his ankles and reeled itself back. Less than a minute after bolting the wheelhouse, the escapee was hanging upside down above the deck.

Moody strode toward his captive, followed by Novikoff and Tonks. She saw a short, squat man in his late 50s, wearing a dark blue pea coat with a gray muffler wrapped about his neck.

He had a florid face, orange-red hair and beard. He was thrashing futilely against the bindings on his legs and swearing in a sulfurous way.

"Captain Dolohov, I presume?" Moody growled at the dangling prisoner.

"Who the hell are you? What right do you have to invade my ship and attack me? I'll have the authorities on you if you don't release me at once!" the enraged sailor thundered.

Moody just grinned and stepped to one side. "If that's how you feel, Captain; we brought the authorities with us" and he waved Alex Novikoff forward.

Novikoff stepped forward, shock and hilarity battling each other for control of his features. "Mikhail, you had best cooperate and answer our questions."

Captain Dolohov became even more outraged. "Novikoff, what is the meaning of this? Doesn't my family's name carry any respect with you? Don't we pay your office enough to leave us in peace?"

Alex stepped back, the picture of affronted dignity. "Now, Mikhail; there's nothing to be gained by being rude. Just answer these people's questions and be right quick about it."

Mikhail Dolohov made a very explicit suggestion as to what 'these people' could do with their questions. Mad-Eye's response was equally explicit: a wave of his arm and the boom swung the struggling seafarer over the side of the ship and then, the rope dunked him head first into the frigid water of the harbor.

After letting him flail about for several seconds, Moody drew Dolohov back up and aboard again. "Now, Captain, let's try that again" Moody growled, totally ignoring Tonks who was rolling on the deck, laughing hysterically.

Dolohov sputtered response of: "I don't have to pay attention to any damned limey!" earned him a second dunking. Moody reeled him back and addressed him again.

"Well, you'd best pay attention to _me_, Dolohov" Moody snarled, 2 inches from the trembling sailor's features. "Because, I'm the _damned limey_ that caught that precious brother of yours and put him in prison; so, you can imagine just how dangerous _I_ am!"

Dolohov immediately ceased all movement and stared at Moody. "You . . . you're the one who caught Antonin?" he whispered in horror.

For answer, Moody drew back his hat and uncovered the whirling magical eye.

Mikhail Dolohov looked as though he'd come face-to-face with his worst nightmare. "What do you want to know?" he groaned.

Five minutes later, the drenched and shivering seaman was back in his wheelhouse. A heavy wool blanket was wrapped about his shoulders and a steaming mug of coffee was in his fist.

Moody smiled at the quivering ship captain, an expression with less warmth than the icy waters of the harbor. "You're doing well, Dolohov. Just a few more questions and we'll be on our way."

Dolohov glanced at Moody resentfully, clutched his blanket even tighter about his shoulders, and gasped, in a resigned manner, "What more do you want to know?"

Tonks took the opportunity to chime in "Tell us about packing case #68745." At his puzzled air, she added "the one you delivered to Kotzebue on your first trip."

The old sailor shuddered, though from memory instead of the cold. "I wish I'd never seen the damned thing; it was the start of all my troubles with this business." He took a deep swallow from his mug and continued.

"Late last winter, a stranger came to me with a proposal: I would deliver a certain cargo case to the Alaskan coast and then, periodically, pick up crates at the same location, bring them here, and ship them west."

He took another deep drink, giving Tonks an opening: "Tell us about the stranger."

"Nothing to tell, really" Dolohov shrugged. "He took pains to conceal his face in his hood. He was well-to-do: dressed nice, had money, carried a fancy walking stick, and paid me in advance. He was very organized: had all the arrangements made, all the papers in order; I just had to move the freight."

He peeked up at the Aurors. "I'll tell you one thing, he didn't hide his accent. I knew from the first he was a lime . . . err . . . an Englishman."

Moody rumbled indifferently. "Tell us about the first crate; what was inside?"

"I never knew; God's truth, I didn't" the captain raised his hands defensively at Moody's look. "I got as close to Kotzebue beach as the tide would allow, boomed the crate over the side, and set it on the beach. There was this crazy little medicine man there waiting for it."

"A medicine man" Tonks scoffed. "Are you barmy, Dolohov?"

"As I live and breathe" Dolohov said, "this wild old Indian or Eskimo, all done up in his tribal best and screaming at me to leave the crate and get off his beach." The old sailor shook his head. "I wasn't shy about leaving; that damn crate was giving me the willies."

"Why" Tonks asked, "what was wrong with it?"

'Well, the last couple of hours, before I landed at Kotzebue, it had started making noises. And, it was moving"

"Moving; how was it moving?" Moody put in.

Dolohov looked at the pair with wide-eyed fear. "It started rocking back and forth. It looked . . . it looked like an egg about to hatch."

The Path of Gold

(From _"The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody"_)

Chapter Seven– _The Last Frontier_

Beaches on the western shore of Alaska seem to be unique. Although quantities of sand are evident, most of the shoreline is lined with smooth, rounded rocks and pebbles; as though the eroding effects of the water are several millennia behind the rest of the world.

The beach at Kotzebue was no exception; the dark, rolling water of the Bering Sea made a sharp contrast to the white and dark mixed pebbles and slightly yellowed sands that lay in short, barren stretches or were piled in large dunes. All was quiet and deserted as Tonks and Moody burst into being near the line of relentless, repetitive waves.

Tonks took a quick survey of their new surroundings. They stood in the middle of a stretch of isolated beach; to the east, she could make out the dark, vague bulk of the buildings that marked the edge of the town. South of them, in the distance, were the docks and warehouses of the port and harbor. West laid the vast sea and north was rolling dunes and hills leading to the tundra, pine forests, and outright wilderness of the Last Frontier.

"Which way should we start, Mad-Eye" Tonks asked, scanning south and east.

"That way" Moody growled, indicating the north while tossing aside the bent, rusty screwdriver that had served as their portkey. "We'll get a good start on the other side of this dune."

The team hiked up the side of the dune and Tonks gave a cry of excitement as her head crested the top and she could see what lay just past it.

Between this dune and the next lay a stretch of flat beach about 200 yards across. Just beyond the shoreline lay the remains of a gray, metallic cargo container. One end was intact; the other looked as though someone had set off an explosive charge in it. The dented, twisted end panel lay on the sand while the sides and top were shredded and bent backwards.

The Aurors skied down the dune and approached the remains; Tonks headed for the end that remained whole, Moody orienting on the one which was destroyed.

"68745" Tonks read the serial number aloud. "That checks with the manifests, but, the seals are still unbroken and there's no lock. Why would anyone break into this container when all they had to do was open the door?"

"Because, no one broke into this, Dora" she heard Moody rumble. "Whatever was inside this crate broke _out_." With that, Tonks leaped into a run to join her partner.

"This thing is welded steel, Moody. What, short of a dragon, could do this kind of damage?"

"What, indeed" Moody mused, giving Tonks an opportunity to look inside.

The interior definitely showed evidence of having been shelter to some living creature. The floor had a thick coating of damp, filthy straw, but, astonishingly, it didn't smell the least like an old barn. Instead, Tonks perceived the delightful fragrances of fish-and-chips, beer, and fresh-cut grass.

She breathed in the heady scent and then turned to Moody. "I don't understand, Mad-Eye. Why does this enclosure smell like a soccer field?"

Moody glanced at her, momentarily stunned, and then trained his magic eye on the interior once more, obviously searching intently. Within moments, he cried 'Aha", reached in and pulled out a small, straw-covered object.

It was a battered, black #4 cauldron, bearing the Durmstrang coat-of-arms and giving off the most pleasant aromas. The inside was coated with a silvery residue which shown like mother-of-pearl.

"This is what you smell, Tonks. I knew it must be something like this because what I smell is totally different. This potion was placed in this case at Durmstrang; during the long trip, its odor has permeated the whole interior."

"Can you tell what the potion was?" she asked with keen interest.

"_Numerupieta_; a derivative of _amortentia_; instead of causing uncontrolled ardor, it causes the subject to be totally devoted and obedient to the first person they see."

"So, that's why Dolohov was told to shove off before the shaman would open the case. The wizard wanted to be sure that whatever was in here obeyed him."

"You're probably correct, Dora" Moody grunted. "I'm guessing, whatever it was got tired of waiting and forced its way out."

Suddenly, Moody pushed his Russian hat down over his magic right eye. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a blank sheet of parchment, which he tapped with his wand. Tonks looked at him curiously until he grunted "Company" and nodded over his right shoulder.

Tonks glanced in the indicated direction and saw a dark, heavy-set man walking towards them. He was dressed in a uniform of dark blue and gray and bearing a sidearm. Tonks assumed he was some form of constable.

"Can I help you folks?" the officer asked in an overly polite tone. "You're a bit off the beaten track."

"I'm sure you can be a great help, Officer" Moody said in a friendly, nothing-to-hide tone. "We're investigators from England, looking into an alleged smuggling ring operating in this area." Moody extended the blank parchment. "Here are our credentials."

The big constable took the paper and began to study it in all seriousness. Tonks watched, utterly fascinated. She had never seen Moody pull this particular stunt before.

The officer shrugged his shoulders and handed the paper back. "Well, that seems in order. What can I help you with, Inspector?"

"Can you tell us what happened here? It may have bearing on the case."

"I'll be darned if I or anyone else knows. Up until about six months ago, this beach was the home of an old recluse named Jerome Neglichot. That over there is what used to be his shack."

The officer pointed toward the tree line at a pile of weather-beaten trash that could possible have been the remains of a small, shoddy dwelling. The pile looked as though it had been smashed to the ground.

"You say this happened six months ago. Was there a storm?" Tonks asked.

"That's the crazy thing, Officer" the constable addressed Tonks. "It all happened on as calm a night as you could ask for. No violent wind, no storm surges, but, come first light, that hovel was flat as a pancake and no sign of old Jerome."

"Tell us everything you can, Officer Munson" Moody said, reading the name plate pinned to the man's chest.

"Well, old Jerome had lived on this stretch of beach as long as I can remember. Most folks gave him a wide berth because he was a contrary old cuss. People messing around that shack were likely to get a view of the wrong end of his shotgun. Mostly, though, he kept to himself and wanted to be left alone.

Anyway, earlier this year, springtime; one evening, about sundown, this dirty, old Russian freighter anchors off this beach. After nightfall, folks in town heard one hell of a ruckus coming from out on the beach. Then, it stopped; so, we decided to wait for daylight to investigate.

When we came down to the beach that morning, we found things like you see here; shack flattened, Jerome gone, and that busted container laying near the surf." Officer Munson shrugged his shoulders.

"And what did you conclude?" Moody asked with great interest.

"We put it down as a bear attack. We figure an early spring grizzly came out of hibernation and broke into the container 'cause he smelled food in it. When Jerome tried to stop him, the bear took after his shack and run Jerome off into the hills." Officer Munson pointed to the distant hills to the northeast. "I've heard he's part of a tribe lives off that way."

"Tell me, Officer Munson; does Jerome have any relatives here in Kotzebue?" Moody inquired.

"Well, yes; Sam and Kelly Urootak run a small souvenir shop on the end of Malamute Street. Sam is Jerome's nephew. Take the main road into town, second street on the left; follow it to the edge of town." Officer Munson paused thoughtfully. "Come to think of it; I haven't seen old Sam since that night, either."

Moody shook Munson's hand. "He's most likely hunting for Jerome; I think your analysis of what happened is probably correct. Officer Tonks and I will just make a quick visit to the souvenir shop, and then be on our way. Thank you for your help, Officer." Moody started off. "C'mon, Tonks."

Tonks and Moody strolled leisurely toward the road into town. Tonks was aquiver with one burning question.

"Moody, what was that business with the parchment? I thought we'd have to obliviate him for sure."

"Another little trick of Dumbledore's" Moody grunted. "Handy when dealing with Muggles."

"Are you going to teach me how to use it?" she asked expectantly.

"Probably" Moody rumbled "When I think you're trustworthy enough not to use it for slipping into concerts without a ticket." He glanced at her significantly and she gave him a 'what, me?' sort of smile.

"And what's all this nonsense about a bear?" she changed the subject.

"Muggles will talk themselves into anything that will help them pretend magic doesn't exist."

After an invigorating stroll through town in the crisp, autumn air, Moody and Tonks duly arrived at 'Urootak's Alaskan Emporium' at the end of Malamute Street.

The little log shop was well-cared for with fresh paint and clean, white curtains. It would have fit in well in Hogsmeade, Tonks thought favorably.

The silver tinkling of a bell announced their presence as they entered the little store. It was remarkably clean and attractive on the inside, as well. Beautifully crafted native artifacts lined the shelves and various implements of Alaskan frontier life were tastefully arranged on the walls.

The only occupant of the shop stood behind the polished wooden counter, appraising her customers. This was a young woman of about Tonks' age; dressed in flannel and denim like a lumberjack and quite attractive. Her tanned complexion, high cheekbones, dark eyes, and shiny, raven-black hair marked her native heritage.

"Hello" she greeted them cheerfully, "may I help you find anything special?"

"Perhaps you can" Moody rumbled. "We're interested in native carvings."

The girl broke into a proud smile. "You've come to the right place. My tribesmen are the most skilled carvers in all of Alaska. I'm sure we'll find something you'll like." She led the two Britishers to a large shelf near the front window.

The miniatures were made with exquisite craftsmanship; every muscle, feature, and even hints of fur were beautifully detailed. The clerk showed several up close, but, Moody remained silent.

"No, I don't think any of these will do" Moody finally said. "Dora and I are looking for very special carvings. Show her, Dora." Tonks brought out her little polar bear and held it in her palm.

The native woman watched the tiny carving gambol about Tonks' hand for a breathless moment. Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. Tonks wondered if they had inadvertently insulted her.

Abruptly, the girl turned. "Please, come with me" she said sharply. "You must speak of this matter with my grandmother. This way, please."

She led the Aurors down a short hallway and out a rear door. Set behind the store stood a large, canvas tent. Before the tent, on a camp chair by a small bonfire, sat an old woman. Her complexion and cheekbones marked her as a native, but, her long, braided hair was snowy white and her face was seamed with countless wrinkles. She stopped puffing on her corncob pipe when the young girl leaned over to whisper in her ear. When she turned her gaze on them, Tonks saw sharp, keen eyes as dark as the midnight sky.

"My granddaughter tells me you have a most unusual carving" the old woman's voice was reedy with age, but strong and commanding. Tonks got an instant intuition that this was not someone to cross. "I would like to know how you come by it."

"We bought it in a curio shop in Diagon Alley in London" Moody rumbled matter-of-factly.

"London . . ." the old woman contemplated the word for a long moment, and then, turned to her young relative. "Kelly, bring chairs and close the shop. We must hold palaver with these strangers."

Kelly leaped to do her grandmother's bidding and, soon, the four were facing each other across the fire.

The old woman spoke formally "First, I am Marilyn Urootak of the Imligachi. This is my granddaughter, Kelly Urootak." She indicated the girl who sat immobile and stoic. "In the name of the spirits, we welcome you." She paused, waiting.

"I am Alastor Moody, from England. This is my student, Nymphadora Tonks. We thank you for your welcome." The big Auror stopped and waited, in turn.

"You are both wizards" Marilyn spoke, not asking, but stating fact.

"We are" Moody agreed, then added "as are both of you."

"It is true" Marilyn acknowledged. "Among the Imligachi, the line of the chiefs has carried the magic from the dim, distant days of the crossing" and she swept her arm toward the Bering Sea. "It is tradition that the eldest child of the chief becomes chief in his or her turn, passing along knowledge of the power to their heir." She drew deeply on her pipe and then, spat violently into the leaping flames.

"But, now, all that was is at an end. My place as chief of the Imligachi has been usurped and I am outcast from my tribe. Our traditions and customs have been trampled into the tundra and our ways are like leavings from a wolf's kill." The white-haired old woman spoke with appalling bitterness.

"Tell us what happened" Mad-Eye spoke gently.

The venerable lady looked at the scarred wizard, sighed, and then spoke in the tones of an experienced storyteller.

"To begin, understand that to my people, tradition and custom are stronger than law; they are the links back to our honored past and are held most reverently. Never has any Imligachi sought to violate our traditions.

But, my brother, Jerome, has lived his life in bitterness and envy since my father breathed his last and I was raised chief before the whole tribe. He would never acknowledge that, as eldest, it was my duty to assume the mantle" here, she indicated the snow-white, beaded shawl draped about her shoulders, "and the wand" and she drew from beneath her wrap a highly decorated rod of ivory, feathers, and fur.

"But, as heir, it was I who was trained and took the welfare of the people and the safeguarding of the traditions as my solemn task. In all things, I tried to treat Jerome with the respect due a member of the family of chiefs, but, he withdrew from us to wallow in his spite."

"Then, this spring, before the ice was broken on the inland rivers, a stranger man came to Kotzebue. He spoke to my son, Samuel, about carvings and gold and England. Sam was a true Imligachi; he knew that our magical carvings were a secret of the tribe, not to be shared with others. He sent this stranger man away."

Tonks interrupted "What did this stranger look like?"

Kelly answered "I only saw him once, as he argued with my father in the store. He had wicked eyes, the face of a weasel, and spoke even as you do."

Tonks shrugged "And was that the last of him?"

Marilyn spoke, now "The last so far as Sam was concerned. But, the stranger did not leave Kotzebue. He found Jerome; they held palaver on the beach two or three nights. Then, the stranger left and Jerome began constructing a wand of his own." Again, Marilyn spat. "This showed how far from custom Jerome would fall to achieve power, for only the chief and the heir may carry wands; wands made before the crossing and handed down each generation since."

"One night, six months ago, the plans of Jerome and his stranger man came to pass. Jerome received the power of Deez and attacked our camp. Many of the young men were killed, my Sam among them. I was forced to flee, carrying the heir's wand to Kelly who was in Kotzebue and safe. She is now my heir, but, will inherit nothing. For my magic, the strongest in all the tribe, was as nothing before the power of Jerome and Deez." She ceased speaking and stared into the distance, puffing furiously on her pipe.

"Now, Jerome has corrupted everything for the sake of his stranger man and Deez. The men work all day in the hills, digging gold to send away. The women make the carvings which Jerome brings to life with the spells known only to the family of the chief. But, these he _also_ sends away. Soon, the world will fathom their secret and that which was undisclosed and sacred and made us the unique Imligachi will be no more." She sat in stony silence, a vision of cosmic injustice.

"Marilyn, what exactly is Deez?" Tonks asked anxiously.

"There are no words in my language to tell you what Deez is." The chief shook her white-thatched head. "It is not native to this land. It is a monstrous, brutal creature who obeys Jerome implicitly and is devoid of mercy to any other."

"Tell me, Marilyn" Mad-Eye spoke for the first time. "Without this Deez, what would become of Jerome?"

"If it was only Jerome and I, this issue would not be in doubt. My brother would be as helpless as a snowflake against the sun." This pronouncement brought a flash of fire to her shiny, black eyes. Apparently, the years had not diminished the spirit and strength of character in this wrinkled little woman. "Alas, though, I cannot match the power of Deez."

"Marilyn" Moody addressed the old chief, gravely serious, "I do not know if we can help you, but, know this: I have fought many monstrous creatures in my career and I have won. If it is in my power to destroy this one, I will; so you may take back the chieftainship of the Imligachi and restore your traditions."

Marilyn Urootak stared deeply into Moody's face, as though taking his measure. At last, she spoke. "If only it were so! Alas, only for a sign from the spirits themselves would I dare the power of Deez again."

"If the spirits gave you this sign, would you pledge to stop the shipments of carvings and gold?"

The old woman waved his question away like a gnat. "That is not the question. It is tradition to keep our own to ourselves."

Moody grunted. "Then, let us speak of that which you did not mention: along with the mantle and the wand, the chief also is keeper of a talisman, true?"

The Urootaks stared at Moody as if he had performed some amazing feat. Slowly, silently, Marilyn reached beneath her shawl and drew out a necklace. It was beaded in turquoise and gold and depending from it hung a sky-blue eye, carved from mother-of-pearl and colored magically.

Tonks knew immediately that Moody's magic eye had spotted this item during the palaver and he had guessed its significance.

"It is forbidden to speak of the Eye of the Spirits outside of the tribe. How did you know, Alastor Moody?"

Moody ignored her question. "I do not know your spirits, Marilyn Urootak; but, I am very familiar with the workings of Fate. Perhaps, _this_ is the sign from your spirits", with which, Moody lifted off his Russian cap and gave the two native women their first glimpse of his magic eye; the eye which was an exact twin of their sacred talisman.

The Path of Gold

(From _"The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody"_)

Chapter Eight– _Chiefs' War_

Northeast of Kotzebue, just inland from the sea, the scattered pine trees of the taiga butted up against the rolling, tundra covered hills that led eventually to the mountains. The gently rolling Imligachi River served as an eastern boundary to a clearing in the trees, about 20 acres in size.

This clearing was the site of an archaic-looking, but, well-tended village. The eclectic mixture of dwellings included canvass tents, wooden sheds, log cabins, and metal Quonset huts. All were clustered around a bare oval of smooth, level soil about 50 yards across.

Directly in front of one of the largest Quonsets, a man in about his mid-fifties was at work constructing a wooden shipping crate set on saw horses. The workman was short and heavyset, with a sprinkling of gray in his mane of black hair.

He was laboriously sanding the inside of the crate to achieve bone-smoothness and stopped in his exertions to wipe sweat from his brow when a hail from the other side of the camp center caught his attention.

"Walter" a strong, reedy voice called. "Walter Inganomuk."

Walter looked in the direction of the call and a surprised, pleased smile decorated his dark, seamed face. Wiping excess sawdust from his hands with a rag, he hurried forward to greet the four newcomers to the scene.

The two leaders of the group, he knew by sight: Marilyn Urootak, the deposed chief of the tribe, and her granddaughter, Kelly. The others were strangers, and foreign-looking at that.

There was a young girl about Kelly's age, wrapped in a flowing, gray cloak and showing a pale, pretty face and _pink_ hair.

The three women were accompanied by a strange-looking man: dressed like the foreign girl, he used a tall, wooden staff as he limped along with a gimpy left leg. His long, gray hair marked him as Walter's age, he had heavy scars on his face like those a bear could bestow, and he wore a black, fur cap pulled down over his right eye.

Walter strode up to Marilyn and seized her hands in joy and welcome. "Marilyn, thank the spirits! I thought never to see you again." He turned his glowing face on Kelly.

"I greet you, Kelly Urootak and pray for your prosperity" he intoned formally.

Looking back at the former chief, he mentioned "I see you come with new acquaintances."

"Indeed, Walter. I believe they are here at the behest of the spirits; to help me take back what is mine and rid our tribe of Jerome and his monster."

Walter shook his head sadly, all seriousness. "You should not have come, Marilyn. It is too dangerous. Jerome wields his power like a drunkard, crushing all protest ruthlessly. We labor night and day to fulfill his orders; not out of love for him, but only to escape the heat of his wrath if we fail."

"There have been more killings?" Kelly asked anxiously and in slowly building anger.

Walter nodded, sadly. "Anson . . . Marguerite . . . After that, Jerome threatened to loose Deez against the camp. Mothers fear their children will be sacrificed to the brute, so, we have all agreed to say nothing and obey."

"You need obey no longer, Walter Inganomuk" Marilyn pronounced fiercely. "The tyranny of Jerome Neglichot ends today! This I swear!"

Tonks stood silently, taking in this animated conversation while scanning the surroundings. Apparently, the return of Marilyn and Kelly had attracted considerable attention because a crowd of old men, young and old women, and children had begun pouring out of the buildings and gathering around the small group.

Amid assorted cries of welcome, thanksgiving, and warning, Tonks felt her hair being touched and pulled by several young children; looking into their palms to see if the unusual color would come off.

Moody stood silently, maintaining a vigil that none of the villagers seemed inclined to disturb. In fact, no one came anywhere near him. Marilyn and Kelly were in frantic, heated debate with the elders in the group, who seemed determined to dissuade their attempt to reclaim the leadership.

"You must go, and swiftly" one thin, gray oldster was declaring. "When Jerome finds you here . . ."

"Is that him?" Moody's growl cut through the conversation and all fell silent and looked toward the largest log cabin.

Standing on the porch of the cabin was a wizened figure, leaning on an ivory staff and glaring at the crowd. Tonks saw he was dressed in buckskin garments, beautifully decorated, but grimy looking. He was emaciated and stooped over and, as he descended the steps, Tonks detected the shuffling walk of an arthritis sufferer. She lost all sympathy, though, when she got a good look at his face.

He seemed to be as ancient as Marilyn and she could see the family connection, but, there the resemblance ended. Where Marilyn's face showed strength, wisdom, and kindness, this man looked more like some aged carrion bird. His lined features were pulled down in a permanent scowl, his thin lips were drawn back in a snarl, and his snapping eyes showed flecks of madness. If Tonks were to draw a face colored by a lifetime of bitterness, envy, and malice, it would be this one.

The crowd drew back at the ancient shaman's approach; chary of drawing his attention; Marilyn, however, stood proud, erect, and defiant; Kelly and the two Aurors backing her.

Jerome stopped ten paces away and spoke in a voice like a shrieking crow "I warned you not to return, Marilyn. The days when you were chief have ended and your antiquated ways with them."

"No, Jerome; the spirits have answered my prayers and sent to me the means of ending your oppression and cruelty forever; Today, I take back what is mine!" The powerful voice of the true chief rang out like a war trumpet sounding.

The wicked-looking wizard glanced at the Aurors and replied scornfully. "Bringing these foreigners into a private tribal matter, Marilyn; outside assistance in a battle for the chieftainship?"

The tribe began to murmur uncomfortably at Jerome's words. Apparently, this behavior of Marilyn's didn't set well, despite their obvious preference for her over her brother.

Marilyn, however, was not dissuaded. "They are not as foreign as you might think, Jerome. Show the Imligachi your talisman, Alastor Moody!"

Mad-Eye, without hesitation, swept the fur cap from his head and let it fall to the ground. There were 'oohs' and 'aahs' from the watching crowd and whispered conversations as they saw the blue eye whirling in his face.

Jerome flinched and blanched at this revelation, and then, in a tone of desperation, tried to sway the crowd again.

"Is this how you uphold our traditions, sister? Telling these outlanders of the Eye of the Spirits? Flouting our sacred beliefs for the sake of power?" He was screeching at the end of this pronouncement.

Marilyn visibly swelled and took a step toward her brother. "You _dare_ to speak to _me_ of violating custom, Jerome?? You who have murdered; you who have usurped with force the position which is mine by right; you who sends our crafts and gold to foreign shores and have brought in a monster to terrorize and enslave your own people!" She shook with visible, righteous anger and pulled out her wand.

"Enough!!" she yelled, "defend yourself, chief of the Imligachi." She spat the title with distain and adopted an attack position.

Jerome grabbed the top of his staff and pulled. The top twelve inches quickly separated into a primitive wand: a length of bone, trimmed with rawhide strings, feathers, squirrel tails, and topped with the bleached skull of a raven

The crowd dropped back a respectful distance as the combatants squared off; Kelly remained rooted to the spot with Moody and Tonks following her lead.

Marilyn sent a bolt streaking at Jerome, but the shaman blocked it easily. He countered with a bolt of his own which Marilyn deflected with no trouble. They spent several moments at this light thrust-and-parry form of dueling. It gave Tonks, an experienced duelist, an opportunity to evaluate their skills critically.

Although they used non-verbal spells exclusively, she thought some were familiar to her. She mostly noted the distinctive styles: Marilyn was graceful; stylish, flexible and sought to establish a pattern in her brother's defensive moves. Jerome, in contrast, moved clumsily; awkward and hesitant as though unfamiliar with dueling conventions.

No one spoke; no shouts of encouragement or cries of concern. The only sounds were the snap and sizzle of the energies released.

Tonks felt certain that Marilyn was setting up to exploit a hole in Jerome's defenses and would soon strike in earnest. The moment came without warning: a sweeping deflection was quickly turned into a back-handed blast at the wide-open mage.

The effect was instantaneous; the raven-skull wand shattered into a hundred shards and the little wizened shaman was blasted into the air, whirling like some out-of-control propeller to crash ignominiously on the ground, disheveled and beaten.

A cry of thanksgiving went up from the crowd of watchers; a cry that died in forty throats as Jerome raised his head, an insane light of pure hatred in his eyes

"You have sought death here, old woman; Now, you will find it" he shrieked. Then, throwing back his head, Jerome screeched "DEEZ! DEEZ! Come to me!"

The last echo had barely faded when Jerome's call was answered. An ominous, reverberating bellow sounded from west of the camp. The resounding _thud – thud_ of heavy footsteps played bass to the high crackle of pine trees being rendered. The mothers in the crowd screamed, seized children and fled.

Moody and Tonks stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Kelly and Marilyn, facing the menacing noises sounding from the trees and coming closer with each heartbeat. Jerome's horrible ally was fast approaching.

"There" Moody barked and pointed through a gap between the huts. Tonks could discern movement behind the trees. A monstrous, rolling bulk, vaguely man-shaped but strangely out of proportion, was pushing through the last lines of trees as it stalked in answer to Jerome's summons.

With a rending crash, the trees parted and the grotesque, mountainous form of a giant stepped into the camp.

He stood about 20 feet tall, perhaps more, but looked shorter because of his thick, massive build. He wore a jerkin made of filthy, mismatched animal skins sewn together with thick, rawhide strings; his entire body was liberally coated with pine needles and dirt; his bare feet were as big as canoes and his legs were like twisted tree trunks; his arms, depending nearly to the ground, resembled water mains.

The immense head that seemed to sit squarely on his broad shoulders was similar to one of the carvings from Easter Island: blocky, balanced top and bottom by a thick, overhanging brow and prominent jaw; his leering mouth hung half-open, displaying yellowed teeth larger than those of a horse; his hair, mustache, and goatee were uniformly dirty blond and hung limply; and his great watery eyes were dull gray.

In his right hand, which was the size of an office desk, he clutched the half-gnawed remains of a bull caribou. Apparently, Jerome's command had interrupted his repast. Tonks assumed said repast would be continued once this latest annoyance was brushed aside.

The little medicine man was upright again, fairly hopping from foot-to-foot with rage, as he shrieked "DEEZ! DEEZMEMBAR! Kill them!!!" and swept his arm at the four figures standing defiantly in the center of the campsite.

The giant swung his entire head in their direction. His lips curled into an obscene grin and, with a ringing roar, he dropped his half-eaten meal and strode toward the small group of wizards.

The Path of Gold

(From _"The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody"_)

Chapter Nine – _When Behemoths Collide_

As the massive, foul-smelling titan bore down on them, Moody and Tonks immediately drew their wands and stepped forward. This was their part of the bargain with Marilyn and they meant to uphold it or go down fighting.

_"Reducto"_ Tonks raged and a scarlet bolt of energy flew from her wand and struck Deez between the eyes. The great hulk snapped his head up straight, pausing in his approach and looking momentarily puzzled, and then reoriented on his prey and stepped out once again.

That first step was the move Mad-Eye had been waiting for. _"Calderia"_ he roared and blasted a large hole in the ground directly under the giant's descending foot.

Deez bellowed in surprise, pin-wheeled his arms franticly, and then performed a beautiful face-plant directly in front of the foursome. The impact shook the tiny camp and Moody yelled "Kelly; get your grandmother to cover. It's our show from here."

Dismissing the tribe members from her mind, Tonks focused solely on the battle before them. The bellowing monster was scrambling to his feet again, thoroughly enraged and looking to take it out on the nearest candidates.

Before he had risen completely, Tonks stepped up point blank and screamed _"Stupefy."_ Her stunner caught Deezmembar full in the face and he reared up in rage, roaring furiously and bringing an enormous fist whistling down at this impertinent midget. Tonks dodged right and felt the violent tremor as the giant's appendage crashed to earth directly behind her.

Now, Moody struck. _"Oculus Exuro"_ the old warrior roared, arrowing a blue bolt directly into Deez' left eye. The giant shrieked and smacked his face with his open palm. He hunched over, rubbing his eye vigorously with one hand while his other waved violently in time with his stomping feet.

Tonks hoped Mad-Eye's Conjunctivitis curse would give them a distinct advantage, however, when Deezmembar straightened again and glared in their direction, his left eye was merely bloodshot and still focused murderously on the Aurors.

Tonks took advantage of the break to attack again. _"Confundo"_ she bellowed and her white bolt struck the giant's forehead squarely.

"No good, Dora" Moody called, "Giants are confounded a lot of the time anyway."

Deez apparently was not affected, because he took decisive action now. Striding to the edge of the taiga, he seized a twelve-foot pine tree and ripped it out of the ground.

Raising it like a club, above his head with both hands, he roared and charged down on Moody and Tonks.

In a superb demonstration of teamwork, the Aurors hit again: Tonks' _"Stupefy"_ caught the giant in his exposed face, stopping him momentarily, while Moody's _"Reducto"_ blasted the tree to bits, showering Deez in smoking splinters and needles.

The goliath shook himself and glared at his foes. This set him up for Moody's next shot. _"Erumpo Incendia"_ roared Mad-Eye and a tremendous blast of red fire exploded in the giant's face. Again, the brute stepped back, roaring furiously and brushing his features. Moody used the pause to shout "C'mon, Tonks! Run for it!" and light out for the trees. Tonks reflexively followed.

Tonks rapidly caught up to Mad-Eye and matched his pace. Although he moved smoothly and well for an older man with a wooden leg and staff, she could still outstrip him in a flat run. They headed down the giant's back-trail, taking advantage of the downed trees; Moody skirted these while Tonks usually vaulted them. Behind them, she could hear Deez roaring and stumbling along after them.

"He's slower" Moody growled, obviously using his magic eye to track their enemy. "He can't see as well and either strained or broke something when he stepped in that hole."

"Do we have anything resembling a plan?" Tonks gasped, leaping another tree trunk.

"I have a notion or two" Moody rumbled. "We need to keep him following us."

They ran on another 50 yards, Deez still dogging their trail, bellowing with every stride.

"Through here" Moody cut left toward a gap in the standing timber. "We need to reach the beach."

Tonks ran on, a perplexed expression on her face. The beach would supply far less cover than this taiga. And in a long run, the odds favored the giant. Though he might be slower than them now, he was expending far less energy to traverse the same distance. They were certain to give out before he did.

Moody paused at the trees, surveying their chaser. Then, he levitated a large rock, and, with a cry of _"Surculus",_ sent it straight into the monster's face. The rock impacted on the bridge of Deezmembar's broad nose, instantly pulverizing to dust, and bringing a fresh bellow of outrage from the brute.

Stowing his wand, Moody charged through the trees, twisting past the intervening trunks. Tonks trailed him, looking back to mark the pursuit. The giant hit the trees and began systematically shoving them aside, intent on his prey.

This belt of conifers was neither deep nor vast. Tonks cleared the final row of trunks and emerged on the edge of a steep, rocky incline leading down to the beach and the sea beyond. Moody was already working his way down the slope, sacrificing speed for balance and using his staff as a rudder.

Tonks leaped onto the slope as the misshapen form of the giant broke through the final pine barricade. Nimble as a mountain goat, she leaped from rock to rock in a dizzying display of coordination and balance as she descended the slope. Twenty feet above the beach, she caught a toe and rolled and tumbled the rest of the way.

As it was, she and Moody arrived at the bottom simultaneously. A shower of stones rattling down the steep incline announced that the chase would carry on. Tonks leaped to her feet and looked up to see Deez slipping and sliding down the slope, eyes still blazing with anger and hate.

Moody lit out down the beach, Tonks following close. Behind them, she heard the crash and bellow that announced the giant had completed his descent.

They continued their dash down the beach, Deezmembar in pursuit about 150 yards behind. Tonks scanned the surroundings, desperate to find some haven. But, all she could see was the unbroken vista of the sea to her left and the coastal cliff to her right.

Now, as they maintained their course, the cliff began to rise; higher and even higher, forming an insurmountable barrier nearly 200 feet high. The face was rough and broken, but, there were no caves of sufficient depth for them to hide in. They could never climb to safety in time either; Deez would pluck them like ripe apples before they could ascend halfway.

Suddenly, Moody pulled up short. "This will do" he bellowed.

"Do for what?" Tonks yelled. "We've no shelter and we can't fight him."

"I know" Moody growled, watching the titan slowly approaching. "Listen, use Calderia and blast a hole big enough for both of us. Do it now!"

"That won't save us; he'll pull us up like fresh carrots!"

"We're _not_ hiding from him and we're _not_ fighting, Tonks" Mad-Eye roared. "This is a_ trap_ and we're the bait!"

Tonks looked at Moody as if he'd finally lost all reason, and then, with a loud "_Calderia", _made a fissure in the beach about halfway between the shore and the base of the cliff. Her excavation was six feet long, three feet wide, and six feet deep; 'perfect for a grave' she thought.

"Get in; leave room for me" Moody rumbled. "When it comes, use Bubble-Head to breath and keep your head down."

Tonks looked askance at Moody again; took one final glance at the giant, lumbering up the beach 100 yards distance, and then leaped feet first into her creation. How tenuous a thing is trust, she thought.

She saw Moody turn to the Bering Sea, raise his wand, and bellow _"Tsunamius Maxima!" _Next instant, he had piled into their trench next to her. "Head down and get ready for the Bubble-Head Charm" he rasped in her ear.

Tonks could only see the sand and gravel at the bottom of the ditch, but, she could feel the steady _thud – thud_ of Deez' approaching footfalls. Suddenly, they stopped. She felt nothing except her and Moody's labored breathing, but, she could hear a strange whooshing sound that seemed to come from everywhere.

"Mad-Eye, what's that?" she hissed at her partner.

"The drawback" he growled. "It's coming and Deez has noticed. Stay down!"

The liquid whooshing noise abruptly stopped, but now, she could make out a distant rumble like a far-away train. As the volume grew, she suspected the train was headed their way and, for some reason she couldn't fathom, she felt afraid.

Now, this mysterious train had increased in volume, roaring and thundering louder and louder. Over this cacophony, she suddenly heard Deez begin to bawl, one long, drawn-out roar after another. As quickly as he could suck breath, he would emit a further bellow until all his air was expelled again.

Tonks had always considered giants to be inarticulate, but, this one was putting a lot of meaning into his roars that she had no problem interpreting. Most of all was anger, mixed with defiance, a smidgeon of futility, and, strangely enough, a touch of fear.

"What can possibly be going on?" she thought. She felt an irresistible urge to look up. But, Moody's hand was pressed firmly to the back of her head, preventing this.

Now, the thunder of the train was overwhelming the roars of the giant and she barely heard Moody's shout "BUBBLE-HEAD, NOW!!!"

Tonks immediately thought _"Alio Aer!" _and pictured a bright, summer sky.

The air bubble snapped into being about her head, muffling the booming sound from above. Then, several things happened at once.

The light from the sun was abruptly cut off and she feared the giant was standing over their hideaway; suddenly, it felt as though someone had dumped a barrel of ice-cold water on top of them; most significantly, the earth shook violently!

The floor and sides of the hole jumped with tremendous force, dislodging stones and causing the water to geyser up pass her face. An incredibly powerful tremor blasted through her entire body like a bolt of lightning. She could only think that some mountainous pagan deity out of the old legends had taken offense with this beach and smote it mightily with his clenched fist.

The moments passed like an eternity for Tonks; breathing her personal atmosphere in anxious pants; soaked to the bone by the icy water; a terrible ringing resounding in her ears; and Moody's hand resolutely holding her head down.

Then,(oh blessed relief) Moody's hand withdrew and she could straighten up, working the kinks from her neck and back and raising her arms to begin scrambling out of the half-collapsed remains of their water-filled refuge.

When she lifted her head above the rim, Tonks had to pause to take in the spectacle. Deadly silence pervaded; Moody was sitting on the edge of the trench, dropping his bubble and gazing at the landscape, but, the landscape was changed. All the sand was gone; the beach was nothing but a collection of dripping wet rocks and pebbles. The great cliff remained, but water was dripping from the entire lower half, as far as she could see in both directions.

However, there was no trace whatsoever of their monstrous pursuer.

"Moody" she called sharply as her bubble expired, "what happened to him?"

"Crushed against the cliff and then swept out to sea by the tidal wave I conjured" Moody rumbled. "We should get back and tell Marilyn and Kelly they're in charge again."

"It's over, then; isn't it, Mad-Eye?" Tonks asked anxiously. She didn't know if her nerves could handle much more.

"Almost, Dora" Moody growled, looking thoughtful. "We've still got one more weed to uproot. And we'll do that back where we started."

The Path of Gold

(From _"The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody"_)

Chapter Ten – _Confrontation_

Noon on the first of October was pleasant and balmy, with none of the meteorological drama that had played across London in late September. All was fair and quiet, both outside and inside of the Leaky Cauldron.

Seated at a table near the fireplace in patrician isolation, softly sipping cognac was a middle-aged wizard of highly aristocratic mien. His totally black, top-quality wardrobe set off his pale, lean face and white-blond hair.

He did not deign to look up as the door opened to admit three new patrons. The short, pink-haired girl spotted him immediately and led her robed companions towards his table.

"Ah, Nymphadora! How delightful to see you, dear. And how are Mummy and dear old Dad?"

"We're all quite spectacular, Uncle Lucius, thanks for asking. Give my love to Aunt Cissy and Cousin Draco, will you?" Only the words were polite. Tonks' tone, expression, and stance all screamed how much she loathed the man she was addressing.

"Certainly, dear" Lucius Malfoy sneered. "So, tell me, have you washed out of Auror training yet? I'm sure the Ministry will find something useful for a girl of your talents to do instead. Rounding up stray dogs, perhaps?"

Tonks merely smiled nastily. "I believe that can wait until we've dealt with the problem of former Death Eaters. They're more of a nuisance and contribute less to society than the average stray dog."

"However, Uncle; since you're concerned about my training, perhaps you should speak with my instructor"; she stepped to one side, allowing Mad-Eye and the cloaked, hooded figure accompanying him to step up to the table.

"Moody, old fellow; always a pleasure" Lucius spoke with his most phony enthusiasm.

"Malfoy" the Auror grunted. "We'd like a word."

"I'd prefer if you didn't, Moody. I was trying to enjoy myself, actually."

"This won't take long" the big Auror growled, taking a chair, "and I guarantee you'll hear something to your advantage." Moody's two companions dropped into chairs flanking him.

"Really?" Malfoy snorted. "I can't imagine what that could possibly be"

"It's just that we've finished our investigation of the counterfeiting operation in Diagon Alley and have completely shutdown all aspects of it."

"And how is that to my advantage. Moody?" Malfoy's distain was palatable. "From what the Prophet reports, the fellow responsible will be tried shortly and sent on to Azkaban."

"Niles Gentry will go to Azkaban for his part, but, he was only manufacturing the coins. All the parties were small cogs in the machine that was put together by the true architect" Moody leaned forward to snarl: "_You, Lucius!"_

"I, indeed?" Malfoy drew back in feigned indignation. "You're either joking or deranged."

"I'm as serious as heart failure" Mad-Eye growled. "Gentry never had two sickles to rub together in his life. He received no start up loan for his business from Gringotts. That leaves only private money for his stake. Money like yours, Malfoy; money also used to finance a very large shipment from Durmstrang to Kotzebue.

"Gentry had no influence on former Death-Eaters like Karkaroff; or the relatives of current ones like Dolohov. You, however, having been part of the Inner Circle, have remarkable leverage with that ilk."

"Need I remind you, old man, that I was exonerated of those charges?"

"I don't need reminding; I was there" Moody snarled. "Only you could have set Avery and his thugs on us at Durmstrang. Karkaroff has neither the authority nor the nerve."

Lucius said nothing; he merely sat there, glaring at the Auror.

"The clincher, though, was what I saw in Alaska: the old shaman who constructed a new wand after meeting with the foreign 'stranger man'. A wand which he concealed in his staff; I've only seen one other like it."

Fast as a striking snake, Moody's hand shot across the table and slammed Lucius' silver headed cane on the table.

Malfoy glared at Moody with pure hatred, and then leaned forward and hissed "Innocent until _proven_ guilty, Moody."

"It's always fascinated me, Malfoy" Moody growled "how those who have the greatest contempt for the law, are the quickest to invoke its protection."

"But, I _am_ protected, Moody" Lucius drawled, with all the scorn he could muster. "And, I fail to see any recourse for you."

"Any _legal_ recourse, Malfoy" Moody replied with an ugly snarl. "You've covered your tracks well. Gentry will take the fall, as you planned if your little plot was discovered, but remember this; your protection lasts only as long as my respect for the law. If _that_ vanishes, you'd best find a hole in the ground to hide in."

"That sounds suspiciously like a threat, Moody" Lucius sneered. "What a pity if I'm forced to refer the matter to my solicitors."

"Oh, that wasn't a threat, Mr. Malfoy" the cloaked figure broke in. "you've merely misinterpreted Mr. Moody. However, if you wish to pursue legal action in court, you'll find Mr. Moody has _excellent_ representation."

The figure threw back its hood and Malfoy sucked in his breath as he beheld the calm features of Millicent Bagnold.

"My, my; Minister; not particularly choosy about your company, are you?" Malfoy scoffed, recovering from his shock and glancing at the Aurors.

Millicent ignored his implication. "Duty and necessity brought me to your table, Lucius. We must often make sacrifices for the common good, regardless of our personal preferences . . . as _you_ are about to find out."

"I, Minister?" Malfoy intoned icily, raising a cynical eyebrow.

"Yes, Lucius" Millicent replied, scornfully. "I believe it is in your best interest to maintain a low profile for the time being until the economic situation reverts to normal."

"Well, Minister; I have multiple business interests which require my attention and I shall tend them as I see fit. Fudge will see to it that I'm not harassed by any of his minions" and Malfoy directed a sneer at the Aurors.

Tonks observed Millicent adopt a strange, new expression: her shoulders were squared; her eyes half-lidded; and her teeth were bared. Any of the hundreds of barristers who had opposed Madam Bagnold in court could have told Tonks what that expression meant: Millicent Bagnold was about to go for the throat.

"Is it to be a contest, then, Malfoy?" she snarled, sounding almost like Moody.

"Shall we see who wields greater influence in the Ministry: you or I?"

There was a momentary crack in Malfoy's icy veneer. That façade of calm, confident arrogance gave way to a look of fear and panic. He recovered immediately, but, they'd all seen it.

"Perhaps . . . perhaps I _could_ do with a bit of a holiday, come to think of it" he stammered out.

"Make it a long one, Lucius" the former Minister intoned, as the three stood to leave. "You'll be watched." She led her companions away from the table, leaving a thoroughly-shaken Lucius Malfoy to ponder his immediate future.

The former leader of the British magical community exited the tavern via a rear door, accompanied by the Aurors. They stood in a small walled courtyard behind the building, surrounded by stacks of barrels and several old crates. Moody reached up with his wand to tap the brick wall, three across and two up, which opened up into the brick archway to Diagon Alley.

Moody turned back to the older witch. "Thanks for your help, Millie. Without anything to formally charge him with, we needed some way to get Malfoy's attention." The stately presence inclined her head.

Tonks had been conspicuously silent, but now, her curiosity got the better of her nervousness. "I'm surprised you agreed to such a pedestrian errand as this, Minister."

Millicent Bagnold turned that sharp gaze on Tonks, and then smiled a quiet half-smile. "I fear it may diminish me in your eyes, Nymphadora" the former Minister intoned, "but, in all candor, I must confess that Alastor is not the only one who can't say no to certain old friends." The great lady beamed at the young one, and then turned to Moody. "May I expect you for dinner tonight, Alastor?"

"You can depend on it, Millie" the big Auror rumbled. "Tonks and I will do a final sweep of 'Gentry's Exotica' and then, go file our report with Amelia." The sour grimace on his face showed Moody put that task on the same enjoyment level as experiencing dental surgery.

The senior investigator turned to his partner. "Go on ahead, Tonks; I'll catch you up in a minute."

Tonks nodded and addressed her idol. "It has been an honor, meeting you, Minister."

Millicent Bagnold again inclined her head grandly. "The honor is mine, Nymphadora. You're a remarkable young woman and I'll be monitoring _your_ career with great interest."

This pronouncement so constricted Tonks' throat that, rather than squeak again, she choose to turn and depart hurriedly, leaving the older pair to finalize their dinner plans.

She had traversed about fifty yards into Diagon Alley when she stopped to look back for Moody. The archway was still open and she immediately turned back to the street, cheeks burning.

Here was a new mystery that had her investigator's instincts all keyed up; she wanted to question and probe and extract every detail, but, she knew, realistically, that it was never to be; that this would be chalked up to one more facet of the great unknown.

Tonks recognized, in her heart, that she would never have the courage to ask Moody about what she had seen: the great, battle-scarred Auror and the brilliant, magnificent former Minister of Magic locked in a tight embrace and sharing the most passionate kiss that Tonks had ever seen.


End file.
